LE  PETIT  NORD 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO 


3  1822  01873  4996 


LIDRARY 


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UNIVg,<SITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  Dieeo       y 


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LE  PETIT  NORD 

OR 
ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


LE  PETIT  NORD 

OR 
ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


/ 


,/,5A/      BY 


A.  /^  Pf  Clm  ^r.  C^^^^ 


ANNE^.GRENFELL  AND  KATIE  SPALDING 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

The  Riverside  Press  Cambridge 
1920 


COPYRIGHT,   1920,   BY   HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


FOREWORD 

A  FRIEND  from  the  Hub  of  the  Universe,  in  a 
somewhat  supercilious  manner,  not  long  ago 
informed  one  of  our  local  friends  that  his  own 
home  was  hundreds  of  miles  to  the  southward. 
"  'Deed,  sir,  how  does  you  manage  to  live  so  far 
off?"  with  a  scarcely  perceptible  twinkle  of  one 
eye,  was  the  answer. 

If  home  is  the  spot  on  earth  where  one  spends 
the  larger  part  of  one's  prime,  and  where  one's 
family  comes  into  being,  then  for  over  a  quarter 
of  a  century  *'Le  Petit  Nord"  of  this  book  has 
been  my  home.  With  the  authors  I  share  for  it 
and  its  people  the  love  which  alone  keeps  us 
here.  Necessity  has  compelled  me  to  perform, 
however  imperfectly,  functions  usually  distrib- 
uted amongst  many  and  varied  professions,  and 
the  resultant  intimacy  has  become  unusual.  As, 
therefore,  I  read  the  amusing  experiences  herein 
[  v] 


FOREWORD 


narrated,  I  feel  that  the  "other  half,"  who 
know  us  not,  will  love  us  better  even  if  we  are 
not  exactly  as  they.  That  is  not  our  fault.  They 
should  not  live  **so  far  off." 

The  incidents  told  are  all  actual,  but  the 
name  of  every  single  person  and  place  has  been 
changed  to  afford  any  hypersensitive  among 
the  actors  the  protection  which  pseudonymity 
confers.  We  here  who  have  been  permitted  a 
glimpse  of  these  pages  feel  that  we  really  owe 
the  authors  another  debt  beyond  the  love  for 
the  people  to  which  they  have  testified  by  the 
more  substantial  offering  of  long  and  voluntary 
personal  service. 

Wilfred  T.  Grenfell,  M.D. 

Labrador,  1919 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

An  Awful  Night  for  a  Sinner  Frontispiece 

Sad  Seasick  Souls  strewn  around  20 

The  Herring  of  High  Estate  29 

"Have  you  a  plug  of  baccy.  Skipper?"  40 

Rhoda's  Randy  42 

Topsy's  Ambition  is  to  become  like  a  Fat 
Pig  53 

Topsy  was  creeping  from  Bed  to  Bed  with 
THE  Carving-Knife  54 

The  Prophet  of  Doom  59 

Ananias  has  Broken  yet  Another  Window  61 

Not  Fat,  but  Fine  and  Hearty  68 

Delilah  bawling  70 

Mrs.  Uncle  Life  found  the  Leader  of  the 
Team  in  her  Bed  92 

"Teacher,  I  have  a  pain  "  95 

The  Yoho  100 

They  ate  the  Entire  Boot  108 

He  had  taken  the  Stranger  in  117 

He  froze  his  Toe  in  Bed  127 

[vii] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


A  Long  Way  on  the  Heavenward  Road  131 

The  Seventh  Son  140 

Its  Action  was  Prompt  and  Powerful  141 

It  was  his  Last  Bullet  153 

A  Puffin  Ghetto  180 

The  Bear  bit  his  Leg  off  189 

P.S.  199 


From  drawings  by  Dr.  GrenJeU 


LE  PETIT  NORD 

OR 
ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


LE  PETIT  NORD 

OR 

ANNALS  OF  A 

LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Of  the  Narrows,  St.  John*8 
June  10 
Dear  Joan 

The  Far  North  calls  and  I  am  on  my  way :  — 
There  lies  the  port;  the  vessel  puffs  her  sail. 
There  gloom  the  dark  broad  seas. 

The  lights  begin  to  twinkle  from  the  rocks. 
Why  write  as  if  I  had  taken  a  Hfelong  vow  of 
separation  from  the  British  Isles  and  all  things 
civiHzed,  when  after  all  it  is  only  one  short  year 
out  of  my  allotted  span  of  life  that  I  have  prom- 
ised to  Mission  work?  Your  steamer  letter,  with 
its  Machiavellian  arguments  for  returning  im- 
mediately and  directly  from  St.  John's,  was  duly 
received.  Of  my  imfitness  for  the  work  there  is 
no  possible  doubt,  no  shadow  of  doubt  whatever, 
[  1  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


and  therein  you  and  I  are  at  one.  But  you  will 
do  me  the  justice  to  admit  that  I  put  very  forci- 
bly before  those  in  charge  of  the  Mission  the  de- 
lusion under  which  they  were  labouring;  the  re- 
sponsibility now  lies  with  them,  and  I  "go  to 
prove  my  soul."  What  awaits  me  I  know  not, 
but  except  when  the  mighty  billows  rocked  me, 
not  soothingly  with  gentle  motion,  but  harshly 
and  immoderately,  I  have  never  wavered  in  my 
decision;  and  even  at  such  times  it  was  to  the 
bottom  of  Father  Neptune  that  I  aspired  to 
travel  rather  than  to  the  shores  of  "Merrie  Eng- 
land." 

The  voyage  so  far  has  been  uneventful,  and 
we  are  now  swaying  luxuriously  at  anchor  in  a 
dense  fog.  This  I  believe  is  the  usual  welcome 
accorded  to  travellers  to  the  island  of  New- 
foundland. There  is  no  chart  for  icebergs,  and 
"growlers"  are  formidable  opponents  to  encoun- 
ter at  any  time.  Therefore  it  behoves  us  to 
possess  our  souls  in  patience,  and  only  to  indulge 
f  2  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

at  intervals  in  the  right  to  grumble  which  is  by 
virtue  of  tradition  ours.  We  have  already  been 
here  a  day  and  a  half,  and  we  know  not  how 
much  longer  it  will  be  before  the  curtain  rises 
and  the  first  act  of  the  drama  can  begin. 

These  boats  are  far  from  large  and  none  too 
comfortable.  We  have  taken  ten  days  to  come 
from  Liverpool.  Think  of  that,  you  who  disdain 
to  cross  the  water  in  anything  but  an  ocean 
greyhound!  What  hardships  we  poor  mission- 
aries endure !  Incidentally  I  want  to  tell  you  that 
my  fellow  passengers  arch  their  eyebrows  and 
look  politely  amused  when  I  tell  them  to  what 
place  I  am  bound.  I  ventured  to  ask  my  room- 
mate if  she  had  ever  been  on  Le  Petit  Nord.  I 
wish  you  could  have  seen  her  face.  I  might  as 
well  have  asked  if  she  had  ever  been  exiled  to 
Siberia!  I  therefore  judge  it  prudent  not  to 
thirst  too  lustily  for  information,  lest  I  be  sup- 
plied with  more  than  I  desire  or  can  assimilate 
at  this  stage.  I  shall  write  you  again  when  I 
13] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


board  the  coastal  steamer,  which  I  am  credibly 
informed  makes  the  journey  to  St.  Antoine  once 
every  fortnight  during  the  summer  months.  Till 
then,  au  revoir. 


[4  J 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


Run-hy -Guess,  June  15 
I  LANDED  on  the  wharf  at  St.  John's  to  be  met 
with  the  cheering  information  that  the  steamer 
had  left  for  the  north  two  days  before.  This  ne- 
cessitated a  delay  of  twelve  days  at  least.  Will 
all  the  babies  at  the  Orphanage  be  dead  before  I 
arrive  on  the  scene  of  action?  Shall  I  take  the 
next  boat  back  and  be  in  England  before  the 
coastal  steamer  comes  south  to  claim  me?  Con- 
flicting emotions  disturb  my  troubled  soul,  but 
"on  and  always  on!" 

The  island  boasts  a  railroad  of  which  the  rural 
inhabitants  are  inordinately  proud.  Just  prior  to 
my  arrival  a  daily  service  had  been  inaugurated. 
Formerly  the  passenger  trains  ran  only  three 
times  a  week.  There  are  no  Sunday  trains.  As 
I  had  so  much  time  to  spare,  I  decided  that  I 
could  not  do  better  than  spend  some  of  it  in  go- 
ing across  the  island  and  thus  see  the  southern 
part  of  the  country,  catching  my  boat  at  Come- 
[5] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


by-Chance  Junction  on  the  return  journey. 
Truth  compels  me  to  add  that  I  find  myself  a 
sadder  and  wiser  woman.  I  left  St.  John's  one 
evening  at  six  o'clock,  being  due  to  arrive  at  our 
destination  at  eight  o'clock  the  following  night. 
There  is  no  unpleasant  "hustle"  on  this  railway, 
and  you  may  wait  leisurely  and  humbly  for  a 
solid  hour  while  your  very  simple  meal  is  pre- 
pared. If  you  do  not  happen  to  be  hungry,  this 
is  only  a  delightful  interlude  in  the  incessant 
rush  of  modern  life,  but  if  perchance  Nature  has 
endowed  you  with  a  moderate  appetite,  that  one 
hour  seems  incurably  long. 

All  went  well  the  first  night,  or  at  least  my 
fellow  passengers  showed  no  signs  of  there  being 
anything  unusual,  so  like  Brer  Rabbit,  I  lay  low 
and  said  nothing.  At  noon  the  following  day  a 
slightly  bigger  and  more  prolonged  jolt  caused 
the  curious  among  us  to  look  from  the  window. 
The  engine,  tender,  and  luggage  van  were  de- 
railed. As  the  speed  of  the  trains  never  exceeds 
[61 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

twenty -five  miles  an  hour,  such  little  contretemps 
which  occur  from  time  to  time  do  not  ruffle  the 
serenity  of  those  concerned.  Resigning  myself  to 
a  delay  of  a  few  hours,  I  determined  to  alight 
and  explore  the  country.  But  alas !  I  had  no  mos- 
quito veiling,  and  to  stand  for  a  moment  outside 
without  this  protection  was  to  risk  disfigure- 
ment for  life.  So  I  humbly  yielded  to  adverse 
circumstances  and  returned  to  try  and  read,  the 
previous  bumping  having  made  this  out  of  the 
question.  But  the  interior  was  by  this  time  a 
veritable  Gehenna,  and  no  ventilation  could  be 
obtained,  as  the  Company  had  not  thought  it 
necessary  to  provide  their  windows  with  screens. 
For  twenty-five  hours  we  remained  in  durance 
vile,  until  at  last  the  relief  train  lumbered  to  our 
rescue  and  conveyed  us  to  Run-by-Guess,  our 
destination. 


[7] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


Northward  Bound.  On  hoard 
June  25 

If  you  could  have  been  present  during  the  re- 
turn journey  from  Run-by-Guess  your  worst 
prophecies  would  have  seemed  to  you  justified. 
The  railroad  is  of  the  genus  known  as  narrow- 
gauge;  the  roadbed  was  not  constructed  on  the 
principles  laid  down  by  the  Romans.  In  a  coun- 
try where  the  bones  of  Mother  Earth  protrude 
so  insistently,  it  is  beating  the  devil  round  the 
stump  to  mend  the  bed  with  fir  branches  tucked 
even  ever  so  solicitously  under  the  ties.  That, 
nevertheless,  was  an  attempt  at  "safety  first" 
which  I  saw. 

Towards  morning  a  furious  rain  and  wind 
storm  broke  over  us.  Before  many  minutes  I 
noticed  that  my  berth  was  becoming  both  cold 
and  damp.  Looking  up  I  made  out  in  the  dim 
dawn  a  small  but  persistent  stream  pouring 
down  upon  me.  I  had  had  the  upper  berth 
f  8  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

pushed  up  so  as  to  get  the  air!  Again  the  train 
came  to  an  unscheduled  stop.  By  this  time  as- 
sorted heads  were  emerging  from  behind  the 
curtains,  and  from  each  came  forcible  protests 
against  the  weather.  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done  but  to  sit  with  my  feet  tucked  up  and  my 
arms  around  my  knees,  occupying  thus  the 
smallest  possible  space  for  one  of  my  propor- 
tions, and  wait  developments.  Ten  minutes 
later,  after  much  shouting  outside  my  window, 
a  ladder  was  planted  against  the  car,  and  two 
trainmen  in  yellow  oilskins  climbed  to  the  roof. 
I  noted  with  satisfaction  that  they  carried  ham- 
mers, tacks,  and  strips  of  tin.  A  series  of  re- 
sounding blows  and  the  almost  immediate  cessa- 
tion of  the  descending  floods  told  how  effective 
their  methods  had  proved.  Directly  afterwards 
the  startled  squeak  of  the  engine  whistle,  as  if 
some  one  had  trodden  on  its  toe,  warned  us  that 
we  were  off  once  more. 
We  landed  (you  will  note  that  the  nautical 
[9] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


phraseology  of  the  country  has  already  gripped 
me)  in  the  same  storm  at  Come-by-Chance 
Junction.  But  the  next  morning  broke  bright 
and  shining,  as  if  rain  and  wind  were  inhab- 
itants of  another  planet.  It  is  quite  obvious 
that  this  land  is  a  lineal  descendant  of  Albion's 
Isle.  Now  I  am  aboard  the  coastal  steamer  and 
we  are  nosing  our  way  gingerly  through  the 
packed  floe  ice,  as  we  steam  slowly  north  for 
Cape  St.  John.  Yes,  I  know  it  is  Midsummer's 
Day,  but  as  the  captain  tersely  put  it,  "the 
slob  is  a  bit  late." 

The  storm  of  two  days  ago  blowing  in  from 
the  broad  Atlantic  drove  the  great  field  of  left- 
over pans  before  it,  and  packed  them  tight 
against  the  cliffs.  If  we  had  not  had  that  sudden 
change  in  the  weather's  mind  yesterday,  we 
should  not  be  even  as  far  along  as  we  now  find 
ourselves. 

You  can  form  no  idea  of  one's  sensations  as 
the  steamer  pushes  her  way  through  an  ice  jam. 
f  10  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

For  miles  around,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the 
sea  is  covered  with  huge,  ghstening  blocks. 
Sometimes  the  deep-blue  water  shows  between, 
and  sometimes  they  are  so  tightly  massed  to- 
gether that  they  look  like  a  hummocky  white 
field.  How  any  one  can  get  a  steamer  along 
through  it  is  a  never-ending  source  of  amaze- 
ment, and  my  admiration  for  the  captain  is  un- 
stinted. I  stand  on  the  bridge  by  the  hour,  and 
watch  him  and  listen  to  the  reports  of  the  man 
on  the  cross-trees  as  to  the  prospects  of  "leads'* 
of  open  water  ahead.  Every  few  minutes  we 
back  astern,  and  then  butt  the  ice.  If  one  stays 
below  decks  the  noise  of  the  grinding  on  the 
ship's  side  is  so  persistent  and  so  menacing  that 
I  prefer  the  deck  in  spite  of  its  barrels  and  crates 
and  boxes  and  smells.  Here  at  least  one  would 
not  feel  Hke  a  rat  in  a  hole  if  a  long,  gleaming, 
icy,  giant  finger  should  rip  the  ship's  side  open 
down  the  length  of  her.  As  we  grate  and  scrape 
painfully  along  I  look  back  and  see  that  the 
I  111 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


ice-pan  channel  we  leave  behind  is  lined  with 
scarlet.  It  is  the  paint  off  our  hull.  The 
spectacle  is  all  too  suggestive  for  one  who  has 
always  regarded  the  most  attractive  aspect  of 
the  sea  to  be  viewed  from  the  landwash. 

Of  course  the  scenery  is  beautiful  —  almost 
too  trite  to  write  —  but  the  beauty  is  lonesome 
and  terrifying,  and  my  city-bred  soul  longs  for 
some  good,  homely,  human  "blot  on  the  land- 
scape." There  are  no  trees  on  the  cliffs  now.  I 
understand,  however,  that  Nature  is  not  respon- 
sible for  this  oversight.  The  people  are  sorely 
in  need  of  firewood,  and  not  being  far-seeing 
enough  to  realize  what  a  menace  it  is  to  the 
country  to  denude  it  so  unscientifically,  they 
have  razed  every  treelet.  Nature  has  done  her 
best  to  rectify  their  mistake,  and  the  rocky  hilLs 
are  covered  with  jolly  bright  mosses  and  Hchens. 

Naturally,  there  are  compensations  for  even 
this  kind  of  voyage,  for  no  swell  can  make  itself 
felt  through  the  heavy  ice  pack.  We  steam  along 
[  12] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

for  miles  on  a  keel  so  even  that  only  the  throb  of 
our  engines,  and  the  inevitable  "ship-py  "  odour, 
remind  one  that  the  North  Atlantic  rolls  be- 
neath the  staunch  little  steamer. 

The  "staunch  little  steamer's"  whistle  has 
just  made  a  noise  out  of  all  proportion  to  its  size. 
It  reminded  me  of  an  English  sparrow's  blatant 
personality.  We  have  turned  into  a  "tickle," 
and  around  the  bend  ahead  of  us  are  a  handful 
of  tiny  whitewashed  cottages  clinging  to  the 
sides  of  the  rocky  shore. 

I  cannot  get  used  to  the  quaint  language  of 
the  people,  and  from  the  helpless  way  in  which 
they  stare  at  me,  my  tongue  must  be  equally 
unintelligible.  A  dehghtful  camaraderie  exists; 
every  one  knows  every  one  else,  or  they  all  act 
as  if  they  did.  As  we  come  to  anchor  in  the  little 
ports,  the  men  from  the  shore  lash  their  punts 
fast  to  the  bottom  of  the  ship's  ladder,  and  clam- 
ber with  gazelle-like  agility  over  our  side.  If  you 
happen  to  be  leaning  curiously  over  the  rail  near 
[  13] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


by,  they  jerk  their  heads  and  remark,  "Good 
morning,"  or,  "Good  evening,"  according  as  it 
is  before  or  after  midday.  This  is  an  afternoon- 
less  country.  The  day  is  divided  into  morning, 
evening,  and  night.  Their  caps  seem  to  have 
been  born  on  their  heads  and  to  continue  to 
grow  there  hke  their  hair,  or  hke  the  clothing  of 
the  children  of  Israel,  which  fitted  them  just  as 
well  when  they  came  out  of  the  wilderness  as 
when  they  went  in.  But  no  incivility  is  meant. 
You  may  dissect  the  meaning  and  grammar  of 
that  paragraph  alone.  You  have  had  long  prac- 
tice in  such  puzzles. 


[  14] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


Seventy-jive  miles  later  ^ 
We  are  out  of  the  ice  field  and  steaming  past 
Cape  St.  John.  This  was  the  dividing  hne  be- 
tween the  EngHsh  and  French  in  the  settlement 
of  their  troubles  in  1635.  North  of  it  is  called  the 
French  or  Treaty  Shore,  or  as  the  French  them- 
selves so  much  more  quaintly  named  it,  "Le 
Petit  Nord."  It  is  at  the  north  end  of  Le  Petit 
Nord  that  St.  Antoine  is  located. 

The  very  character  of  the  country  and  vege- 
tation has  changed.  It  is  as  if  the  great,  forbid- 
ding fortress  of  St.  John's  Cape  cut  off  the 
milder  influences  of  southern  Newfoundland, 
and  left  the  northern  peninsula  a  prey  to  ice  and 
winds  and  fog.  The  people,  too,  have  felt  the  in- 
fluence of  this  discrimination  of  Nature.  There 
is  a  line  of  demarcation  between  those  who  have 
been  able  to  enjoy  the  benefits  of  the  southern 
island,  and  those  who  have  had  to  cope  with  the 
recurrent  problems  of  the  northland.  I  cannot 
[  15] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


help  thinking  of  the  change  this  shore  must 
have  been  from  their  beloved  and  smiling  Brit- 
tany to  those  first  eager  Frenchmen.  The  names 
on  the  map  reveal  their  pathetic  attempts  to 
stifle  their  nostalgie  by  christening  the  coves  and 
harbours  with  the  familiar  titles  of  their  home- 
land. 

I  fear  in  my  former  letter  I  made  some  rather 
disparaging  remarks  about  certain  ocean  liners, 
but  I  want  to  take  them  all  back.  Life  is  a  series 
of  comparisons  and  in  retrospect  the  steamer  on 
which  I  crossed  seems  a  veritable  floating  pal- 
ace. I  offer  it  my  humble  apologies.  Of  one  thing 
only  I  am  certain  —  I  shall  never,  never  have 
the  courage  to  face  the  return  journey. 

The  time  for  the  steamer  to  make  the  journey 
from  Come-by- Chance  to  St.  Antoine  is  from 
four  to  five  days,  but  when  there  is  much  ice 
these  days  have  been  known  to  stretch  to  a 
month.  The  distance  in  mileage  is  under  three 
hundred,  but  because  of  the  many  harbours  into 
I  16] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

which  the  boat  has  to  put  to  land  suppHes,  it  is 
really  a  much  greater  distance.  There  are  thirty- 
three  ports  of  call  between  St.  John's  and  St. 
Antoine,  most  of  which  are  tiny  fishing  settle- 
ments consisting  of  a  few  wooden  houses  at  the 
water's  edge.  This  coast  possesses  scores  of  the 
most  wonderful  natural  harbours,  which  are  not 
only  extremely  picturesque,  but  which  alone 
make  the  dangerous  shore  possible  for  naviga- 
tion. As  the  steamer  puts  in  at  Bear  Cove,  Pov- 
erty Cove,  Deadman's  Cove,  and  Seldom-Come- 
By  (this  last  from  the  fact  that,  although  boats 
pass,  they  seldom  anchor  there),  out  shoot  the 
little  rowboats  to  fetch  their  freight.  It  is  cer- 
tainly a  wonderfully  fascinating  coast,  beauti- 
fully green  and  wooded  in  the  south,  and  be- 
coming bleaker  and  barer  the  farther  north  one 
travels.  But  the  bare  ruggedness  and  naked 
strength  of  the  north  have  perhaps  the  deeper 
appeal.  To  those  who  have  to  sail  its  waters  and 
wrest  a  living  from  the  harvest  of  the  sea,  this 
I  17] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


must  be  a  cruel  shore,  with  its  dangers  from 
rocks  and  icebergs  and  fog,  and  insufficient 
Kghting  and  charting. 

Apart  from  the  glory  of  the  scenery  the  jour- 
ney leaves  much  to  be  desired,  and  the  weather, 
being  exceedingly  stormy  since  we  left  the  ice 
field  behind,  has  added  greatly  to  our  trials.  The 
accommodations  on  the  boat  are  strictly  lim- 
ited, and  it  is  crowded  with  fishermen  going 
north  to  the  Labrador,  and  with  patients  for  the 
Mission  Hospital.  As  they  come  on  in  shoals 
at  each  harbour  the  refrain  persistently  runs 
through  my  head,  "Will  there  be  beds  for  all 
who  come?"  But  the  answer,  alas,  does  not  fit 
the  poem.  Far  from  there  being  enough  and  to 
spare,  I  know  of  two  at  least  of  my  fellow  pas- 
sengers who  took  their  rest  in  the  hand  basins 
when  not  otherwise  wanted.  Tables  as  beds 
were  a  luxury  which  only  the  fortunate  could  se- 
cure. Almost  the  entire  space  on  deck  is  filled 
with  cargo  of  every  description,  from  building 
[18] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

lumber  to  live-stock.  While  the  passengers  num- 
ber nearly  three  hundred,  there  are  seating  ac- 
commodations on  four  tiny  wooden  benches 
without  backs,  for  a  dozen,  if  packed  like  sar- 
dines. Barrels  of  flour,  kerosene,  or  molasses 
provide  the  rest.  Although  somewhat  hard  for  a 
succession  of  days,  these  latter  are  saved  from 
the  deadly  ill  of  monotony  by  the  fact  that  as 
they  are  discharged  and  fresh  taken  on,  such 
vantage-points  have  to  be  secured  anew  from 
day  to  day;  and  one  learns  to  regard  with  equa- 
nimity if  not  with  thankfulness  what  the  gods 
please  to  send. 

There  are  many  sad,  seasick  souls  strewn 
around.  If  cleanliness  be  next  to  godliness,  then 
there  is  little  hope  of  this  steamer  making  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.  One  habit  of  the  men  is 
disgusting;  they  expectorate  freely  over  every- 
thing but  the  ocean.  The  cold  outside  is  so 
intense  as  to  be  scarcely  endurable,  while  the 
closeness  of  the  atmosphere  within  is  less  so. 
I  19  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


These  are  a  few  of  the  minor  discomforts  of 
travel  to  a  mission  station ;  the  rest  can  be  better 
imagined  than  described.  If,  to  the  Moslem,  to 


be  slain  in  battle  signifies  an  immediate  entrance 
into  the  pleasures  of  Paradise,  what  should 
be  the  reward  of  those  who  suffer  the  vaga- 
ries of  this  northern  ocean,  and  endure  to  the 
end? 

My  trunk  is  lost.  In  the  excitement  of  carpen- 
tering incidental  to  the  cloudburst,  the  crew 
of  the  train  omitted  to  drop  it  off  at  Come-by- 
Chance.  I  am  informed  that  it  has  returned 
across  the  country  to  St.  John's.  If  I  had  not 
[  20  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

already  been  travelling  for  a  fortnight,  or  if 
Heaven  had  endowed  me  with  fewer  inches  so 
that  my  clothing  were  not  so  exclusively  my 
own,  the  problem  of  the  interim  till  the  next 
boat  would  be  simpler. 

•  I  have  had  my  first,  and  I  may  add  my  last, 
experience  of  "brewis,"  an  indeterminate  con- 
coction much  in  favour  as  an  article  of  diet  on 
this  coast.  The  dish  consists  of  hard  bread  (ship's 
biscuit)  and  codfish  boiled  together  in  a  copious 
basis  of  what  I  took  to  be  sea- water.  "On  the 
surface  of  the  waters"  float  partially  disinte- 
grated chunks  of  fat  salt  pork.  I  am  not  finick- 
ing. I  could  face  any  one  of  these  articles  of  diet 
alone;  but  in  combination,  boiled,  and  served  up 
lukewarm  in  a  soup  plate  for  breakfast,  in  the 
hot  cabin  of  a  violently  rolling  little  steamer, 
they  take  more  than  my  slender  stock  of  philoso- 
phy to  cope  with.  Yet  they  save  the  delicacy  for 
the  Holy  Sabbath.  The  only  justification  of  this 
policy  that  I  can  see  is  that,  being  a  day  of  rest, 
[  21  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


their  stomachs  can  turn  undivided  and  dogged 
attention  to  the  process  of  digestion. 

Did  I  say  "day  of  rest"  ?  The  phrase  is  ut- 
terly inadequate.  These  people  are  the  strictest 
of  Sabbatarians.  The  Puritan  fathers,  whom  we 
now  look  back  upon  with  a  shivery  thankfulness 
that  our  lot  did  not  fall  among  them,  would,  and 
perhaps  do,  regard  them  as  kindred  spirits.  But 
they  are  earnest  Christians,  with  a  truly  un- 
complaining selflessness  of  life. 

By  some  twist  of  my  brain  that  reminds  me 
of  a  story  told  me  the  other  day  which  brings 
an  old  legend  very  prettily  to  this  country.  It 
is  said  that  when  Joseph  of  Arimathea  was 
hounded  from  place  to  place  by  the  Jews,  he 
fled  to  England  taking  the  Grail  with  him.  The 
spot  where  he  settled  he  called  Avalon.  When 
Lord  Baltimore,  a  devout  Catholic,  was  given 
a  huge  tract  of  land  in  the  south  of  this  little 
island,  he  christened  it  Avalon  in  commemo- 
ration of  Joseph  of  Arimathea's  also  distant 
[  22  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

journey.  To  the  disgrace  of  the  Protestants, 
the  Catholic  exiles  arrived  in  the  "land  of 
promise"  only  to  discover  that  the  spirit  of 
persecution  was  rampant  in  this  then  far-off 
colony. 

Evidently  the  people  of  the  country  think 
that  every  man  bound  for  the  Mission  is  a  doc- 
tor, and  every  woman  a  nurse.  If  my  Puritan 
conscience  had  not  blocked  the  way,  I  could 
have  made  a  considerable  sum  prescribing  for 
the  ailments  of  my  fellow  passengers.  One  little 
thin  woman  on  board  has  just  confided  to  me, 
"Wliy,  miss,  I  foimd  myself  in  my  stomach 
three  times  last  week"  —  and  looked  up  for  ad- 
vice. As  for  me,  I  was  "taken  all  aback,"  and 
hastened  to  assure  her  that  nothing  approaching 
so  astonishing  an  event  had  ever  come  within 
the  range  of  my  experience.  I  hated  to  suggest  it 
to  her,  but  I  have  a  lurking  suspicion  that  the 
catastrophe  had  some  not  too  distant  connec- 
tion with  the  "brewis."  By  the  way,  all  right- 
[  23  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


minded  Newfoundlanders  and  Labradormen  call 
it  "bruse." 

Also  by  the  way,  it  is  incorrect  to  speak  of 
A^ew;foundland.  It  is  Newfound^an^i.  Neither  do 
you  go  up  north  if  you  know  what  you  are  about. 
You  go  "down  North";  and  your  friend  is  not 
bound  for  Labrador.  She  is  going  to  "the  Labra- 
dor," or,  to  be  more  of  a  purist  still,  "the  Lar- 
badore."  Having  put  you  right  on  these  rudi- 
ments —  oh!  I  forgot  another:  "Fish"  is  always 
codfish.  Other  finny  sea-dwellers  may  have  to  be 
designated  by  their  special  names,  but  the  un- 
pretentious cod  is  "t'  fish";  and  the  salutation 
of  friends  is  not,  "How  is  your  wife.'^"  or,  "How 
is  your  health.?"  But,  "How's  t'  fish,  B'y?"  I 
like  it.  It  is  friendly  and  different  —  a  kind  of 
password  to  the  country. 

I  am  glad  that  I  am  not  coming  here  as  a  mere 

traveller.  The  land  looks  so  reserved  tJiat,  like 

people  of  the  same  type,  you  are  sure  it  is  well 

worth  knowing.  So  when,  perhaps,  I  have  been 

[  24  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

able  to  discover  a  little  of  its  "subliminal  self," 
the  tables  will  be  turned,  and  you  will  be  eager 
to  make  its  acquaintance.  Then  it  will  be  my 
chance  to  offer  you  sage  and  unaccepted  advice 
as  to  your  inability  to  cope  with  the  climate  and 
its  entourage.  I  too  shall  be  able  to  prophesy  un- 
heeded a  shattered  constitution  and  undermined 
nerves.  To  be  sure,  old  Jacques  Cartier  had  such 
a  poor  opinion  of  the  coast  that  he  remarked  it 
ought  to  have  been  the  land  God  gave  to  Cain. 
But  J.  C.  has  gone  to  his  long  rest.  After  the 
length  of  this  letter  I  judge  that  you  envy  him 
that  repose,  so  I  release  you  with  my  love. 


[25] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


St.  Antoine  Orphanage  at  last 

Address  for  one  year 

July  6 

I  HAVE  at  last  arrived  at  the  back  of  beyond.  We 
should  have  steamed  right  past  the  entrance  of 
our  harbour  if  the  navigation  had  been  in  my 
hands.  You  make  straight  for  a  great  headland 
jutting  out  into  the  Atlantic,  when  the  ship 
suddenly  takes  a  sharp  turn  round  an  abrupt 
corner,  and  before  you  know  it,  you  are  ad- 
vancing into  the  most  perfect  of  landlocked 
harbours.  A  great  cliff  rises  on  the  left,  — 
Quirpon  Point  they  call  it,  —  and  clinging  to 
its  base  like  an  overgrown  Umpet  is  a  tiny  cot- 
tage, with  its  inevitable  fish  stage.  Farther 
along  are  more  houses;  then  a  white  church 
with  a  pointed  spire,  and  a  bright-green  building 
near  by,  while  across  the  path  is  a  very  pretty 
square  green  school.  Next  are  the  Mission 
buildings  in  a  group.  Beyond  them  come  more 
small  houses  —  "Little  Labrador"  I  learned 
[2G] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

later  that  this  group  is  called,  because  the 
people  living  there  have  almost  all  come  over 
from  the  other  side  of  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle. 
The  ship's  ladder  was  dropped  as  we  came  to 
anchor  opposite  the  small  Mission  wharf.  The 
water  is  too  shallow  to  allow  a  large  steamer  to 
go  into  it,  but  the  hospital  boat,  the  Northern 
Light,  with  her  draft  of  only  eight  feet,  can  eas- 
ily make  a  landing  there.  We  scrambled  over  the 
side  and  secured  a  seat  in  the  mail  boat.  Before 
we  knew  it  four  hearty  sailors  were  sweeping  us  * 
along  towards  the  little  dock.  Here,  absolutely 
wretched  and  forlorn,  painfully  conscious  of 
crumpled  and  disordered  garments,  I  turned 
to  face  the  formidable  row  of  Mission  staff 
drawn  up  in  solemn  array  to  greet  us.  As  the  doc- 
tor-in-charge  stepped  forward  and  with  a  bland 
smile  hoped  I  had  had  a  "comfortable  journey," 
and  bade  me  welcome  to  St.  Antoine,  with  a  pro- 
digious effort  I  contorted  my  features  into  some- 
thing resembling  a  grin,  and  limply  shook  his 
f  27  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


outstretched  hand.  To-morrow  I  mean  to  make 
enquiries  about  retiring  pensions  for  Mission 
workers ! 

No  one  had  much  sympathy  with  me  over  the 
loss  of  my  trunk.  They  laughed  and  said  I  would 
be  fortunate  if  it  appeared  by  the  end  of  the 
summer.  You  had  better  send  me  a  box  by 
freight  with  some  clothing  in  it;  I  otherwise 
shall  have  to  live  in  bed,  or  seek  admission  to 
hospital  as  a  "chronic." 

How  perfectly  dear  of  you  to  have  a  letter 
awaiting  me  at  the  Orphanage.  Regardless  of 
manners  I  fell  to  and  devoured  it,  while  all  the 
"little  oysters  stood  and  waited  in  a  row."  Like 
the  walrus,  with  a  few  becoming  words  I  intro- 
duced myself  as  their  future  guardian,  but  never 
a  word  said  they.  As,  led  by  a  diminutive  maid, 
I  passed  from  their  gaze  I  heard  an  awe-struck 
whisper,  "It's  gone  upstairs!" 

In  answer  to  my  questions  the  little  maid  in- 
formed me  that  the  last  mistress  had  left  by  the 
[  28  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

boat  I  had  just  missed,  and  that  since  then  the 
children  had  been  in  her  charge,  with  such  help 
and  supervision  as  the  various  members  of  the 
Mission  staff  could  give.  I  therefore  felt  it  was 
**up  to  me"  to  make  a  start,  and  I  delicately  en- 


quired when  the  next  meal  was  due.  An  exhaus- 
tive exploration  of  the  larder  revealed  two  her- 
rings, one  undoubtedly  of  very  high  estate.  As 
the  children  looked  fairly  plump,  I  concluded 
that  they  had  only  been  on  such  meagre  diet 
since  the  departure  of  the  last  "mistress."  The 
barrenness  of  the  larder  suggested  a  fruitful 
topic  of  conversation  with  which  to  win  the  con- 
I  29  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


fidence  of  these  staring,  open-mouthed  chil- 
dren, and  I  therefore  tenderly  asked  what  they 
would  most  like  to  eat,  supposing  It  were  there. 
One  and  all  affirmed  that  "swile"  meat  was  a 
delicacy  such  as  their  souls  loved  —  and  re- 
peated questions  could  elucidate  no  further. 
Subsequently,  on  making  enquiries  of  one  of  the 
Mission  staff,  I  thought  I  detected  a  look  which 
led  me  to  suppose  that  I  had  not  yet  acquired 
the  correct  pronunciation  of  the  word.  We  dined 
off  the  herring  of  lowly  origin,  and  consigned  the 
other  to  the  garbage  pail.  Nerve  as  well  as  skill, 
I  can  assure  you,  is  required  to  divide  one  her- 
ring into  thirty-six  equal  parts.  There  is  no  occa- 
sion for  alarm.  I  have  not  the  slightest  intention 
of  starving  these  infants.  To-morrow  I  go  on  a 
foraging  expedition  to  the  Mission  commissariat 
department  (there  must  be  one  somewhere), 
and  then  the  fat  years  shall  succeed  the  lean 
ones. 

To'-night  I  am  too  tired  to  do  more,  and  there 
f  30  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

is  a  quite  absurd  longing  to  see  some  one's  face 
again.  The  coming  year  looks  very  long  and  very 
dreary,  and  although  I  know  I  shall  grow  to  love 
these  children,  yet,  oh,  I  wish  they  did  not  stare 
so  when  one  has  to  blink  so  hard  to  keep  the 
tears  from  falling. 


[31  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


July  7 
Morning!  And  the  children  may  stare  all  they 
like.  I  no  longer  need  to  repress  youthful  emo- 
tions. All  the  same  it  is  a  trifle  disconcerting.  I 
had  chosen,  as  I  thought,  a  very  impressive  por- 
tion of  Scripture  for  Prayers,  and  the  children 
were  as  quiet  as  mice.  But  they  never  let  their 
eyes  wander  from  me  for  a  single  moment,  until 
I  began  to  feel  I  ought  at  least  to  have  a  smut  on 
the  tip  of  my  nose. 

The  alluring  advertisement  of  Newfoundland, 
as  "the  coolest  country  on  the  Atlantic  seaboard 
in  the  summer,"  is  all  too  painfully  true.  It  is 
very,  very  cold  at  present,  and  the  sun,  if  sun 
there  be,  is  safely  ensconced  behind  an  impene- 
trable bank  of  fog.  If  this  is  summer  weather, 
what  will  the  winter  be ! 

I  started  to  write  this  to  you  in  the  morning, 
but  the  day  has  been  one  long  series  of  interrup- 
tions. The  work  is  all  new  to  me  and  not  exactly 
f  32  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

what  I  expected,  but  the  spice  of  variety  is  not 
lacking.  I  find  it  very  hard  to  understand  these 
children  and  it  is  evident  from  their  faces  that 
they  fail  to  comprehend  my  meaning.  Yet  I  have 
a  lurking  suspicion  that  when  it  is  an  order  to 
be  obeyed,  their  desire  to  understand  is  not  over- 
whelming. The  children  are  supposed  to  do  the 
work  of  the  Home  under  my  superintendency, 
the  girls  undertaking  the  housework  and  the 
boys  the  outside  "chores."  Apparently  from  all 
I  hear  my  predecessor  was  a  strict  disciplinarian, 
an  economical  manager,  an  expert  needlewoman, 
and  everything  I  should  be  and  am  not.  The 
sewing  simply  appalls  me!  I  confess  that  stitch- 
ing for  three  dozen  children  of  all  sizes  had  not 
entered  into  my  calculations  as  one  of  the  duties 
of  a  "missionary"!  Yet  of  course  I  realize  they 
must  be  clad  as  well  as  taught.  Wliat  a  pity  that 
the  climate  will  not  allow  of  a  simple  loin  cloth 
and  a  string  of  beads.  And  how  infinitely  more 
becoming.  Then,  too,  how  much  easier  would  be 
[  33  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


the  food  problem  were  we  dusky  Papuans  dwell- 
ing in  the  far-off  isles  of  the  sea.  This  country 
produces  nothing  but  fish,  and  we  have  to  plan 
our  food  supplies  for  a  year  in  advance.  How 
much  corn-meal  mush  will  David  eat  in  twelve 
months.''  And  if  David  eats  so  much  in  twelve 
months,  how  much  will  Noah,  two  months 
younger,  eat  in  the  same  period  of  time?  If  one 
herring  satisfies  thirty-six,  how  many  dozen  will 
a  herring  and  a  half  feed.^*  Picture  me  with  a  cold 
bandage  round  my  head  seeking  to  emulate 
Hoover. 

A  little  mite  has  just  come  to  the  door  to  in- 
form me  that  her  dress  has  "gone  abroad."  See- 
ing my  mystified  look,  she  enlightened  me  by 
holding  up  a  tattered  garment  which  had  all  too 
evidently  "gone  abroad"  almost  beyond  recall. 
Throwing  the  food  problem  to  the  winds  I  set 
myself  with  a  businesslike  air  to  sew  together 
the  ragged  threads.  A  second  knock  brought  me 
the  cheerful  tidings  that  the  kitchen  fire  had 
[34] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

languished  from  lack  of  sustenance.  Now  I  had 
previously  in  my  most  impressive  tones  com- 
manded one  of  the  elder  boys  to  attend  to  this 
matter,  and  he  had  promptly  departed,  as  I 
thought,  to  "cleave  the  splits."  Searching  for 
him  I  found  this  industrious  youth  lying  on  his 
back  complacently  contemplating  the  heavens. 
To  my  remonstrance  he  somewhat  indignantly 
remarked  that  he  was  only  "taking  a  spell."  A 
really  magnificent  and  grandiloquent  appeal  to 
the  boy's  sense  of  honour  and  a  homily  on  the 
dignity  of  labour  were  abruptly  terminated  by 
shrill  cries  resounding  from  the  house.  Rushing 
in,  I  was  informed  that  Noah  was  "bawling" 
(which  fact  was  perfectly  evident),  having 
jammed  his  fingers  in  trying  to  "hist"  the  win- 
dow. In  this  country  children  never  cry;  they 
always  "bawl." 

I  foresee  that  the  Hfe  of  a  Superintendent  of 
an  Orphan  Asylum  is  not  a  simple  one,  and  that 
I  shall  be  in  no  danger  of  being  "carried  to  the 
[35  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


skies"  on  a  "flowery  bed  of  ease."  Certain  I  am 
that  there  will  only  be  opportunity  to  write  to 
you  at  "scattered  times";  so  for  the  present, 
fare  thee  well. 


[.'^Ol 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


Sunday,  August  4 
You  see  before  you,  or  you  would  if  my  very  ob- 
vious instead  of  merely  my  astral  body  were  in 
your  presence,  a  changed  and  sobered  being.  I 
have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Labrador 
fly,  and  he  has  made  mine.  The  affection  is  all  on 
his  side.  Mosquito,  black  fly,  sand  fly  —  they 
are  all  alike  cannibals.  You  have  probably  heard 
the  old  story  about  the  difference  between  the 
Labrador  and  the  New  Jersey  mosquito?  The 
Labrador  si>ecies  can  be  readily  distinguished  by 
the  black  patch  between  his  eyes  about  the  size 
of  a  man's  hand.  Of  the  lot  I  prefer  the  mos- 
quito. He  at  least  is  open  about  his  evil  inten- 
tions. The  black  fly  darts  at  you  quietly,  settles 
down  on  an  un-get-at-able  spot,  and  sucks  your 
blood.  If  I  did  not  find  my  appetite  so  unim- 
paired, I  should  fancy  this  morning  I  was  suffer- 
ing from  an  acute  attack  of  mumps. 

Mumps  is  at  the  moment  in  our  midst,  and  as 
[37  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


is  generally  the  case  has  fallen  on  the  poorest  of 
the  community.  In  this  instance  it  is  a  widow  by 
the  name  of  Kinsey,  who  has  six  children,  and 
lives  in  a  miserable  hovel.  More  of  her  anon.  Her 
twelve-year-old  boy  comes  to  the  Home  daily  to 
get  milk  for  the  wretched  baby,  whom  we  had 
heard  was  down  with  the  disease.  When  he  came 
this  morning  I  told  him  to  stay  outdoors  while 
we  fetched  the  milk,  because  I  knew  how 
sketchy  are  the  precautions  of  his  ilk  against 
carrying  infection.  "No  fear,  miss,"  he  assured 
me.  "The  baby  was  terrible  bad  last  night,  but 
he 's  all  clear  this  morning." 

But  to  return  to  the  Kinsey  parent.  She  had 
eight  children.  The  Newfoundlanders  are  a  pro- 
lific race,  and  life  is  consequently  doubly  hard 
on  the  women.  Her  husband  died  last  fall,  leav- 
ing her  without  a  sou,  and  no  roof  over  her  head. 
The  Mission  gave  her  a  sort  of  shack,  and  took 
two  of  her  kiddies  into  the  Home.  The  place  was 
too  crowded  at  the  time  to  take  any  more.  The 
[38] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

doctor  then  wrote  to  tlie  orphanages  at  the  capi- 
tal presenting  the  problem,  and  asldng  that  they 
take  a  consignment  of  children.  The  Church  of 
England  Orphanage,  of  which  denomination  the 
mother  is  a  member,  was  full;  and  the  other  one, 
which  has  just  had  a  gift  of  beautiful  buildings 
and  grounds,  "regretted  they  could  not  take  any 
of  the  children,  as  their  orphanage  was  exclu- 
sively for  their  denomination."  The  mother  did 
not  respond  to  the  doctor's  ironic  suggestion 
that  she  should  "turncoat"  under  the  press  of 
circumstances. 

They  tell  a  story  here  about  Kinsey,  the  late 
and  unlamented.  Last  spring  a  steamer  heading 
north  on  Government  business  sighted  a  fishing 
punt  being  rowed  rapidly  towards  it,  the  occu- 
pant waving  a  flag.  The  captain  ordered,  "  Stop 
her,"  thinking  that  some  acute  emergency  had 
arisen  on  the  land  during  the  long  winter.  A 
burly  old  chap  cased  in  dirt  clambered  deliber- 
ately over  the  rail. 

[39] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


"Well,  what's  up?"  asked  the  captain  testily. 
*' Can't  you  see  you're  keeping  the  steamer?" 
"  Have  you  got  a  plug  or  so  of  baccy  you  could 


I  40  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

give  me,  skipper?  I  has  n't  had  any  for  nigh  a 
month,  and  it  do  be  wonderful  hard." 

The  captain's  reply  was  unrepeatable,  but  for 
such  short  acquaintance  it  was  an  accurate  re- 
sume of  the  character  of  the  applicant.  De  mor- 
tuis  nil  nisi  honum  is  all  very  well,  but  it  de- 
pends on  the  mortuis;  and  that  man's  wife  and 
children  had  been  short  of  food  he  had  "smoked 
away." 

I  have  the  greatest  admiration  for  the  women 
of  this  coast.  They  work  like  dogs  from  morning 
till  nightfall,  summer  and  winter,  with  "ne'er  a 
spell,"  as  one  of  them  told  me  quite  cheerfully. 
The  men  are  out  on  the  sea  in  boats,  which  at 
least  is  a  hfe  of  variety,  and  in  winter  they  can 
go  into  the  woods  for  firewood.  The  women  hang 
forever  over  the  stove  or  the  washtub,  go  into 
the  stages  to  split  the  fish,  or  into  the  gardens  to 
grow  "'taties."  Yet  oddly  enough,  there  is  less 
illiteracy  among  the  women  than  among  the 
men. 

[  41  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


Such  a  nice  girl  is  here  from  Adlavik  as  maid 
in  the  hospital.  Rhoda  Macpherson  is  her  name. 
She  told  me  the  other  day  that  one  winter  the 
doctor  of  the  station  near  her  asked  the  men  to 
clear  a  trail  down  a  very  steep  hill  leading  to  the 


V^-^ 


village,  as  the  dense  trees  made  the  descent  dan- 
gerous for  the  dogs.  Weeks  went  by  and  the  men 
did  nothing.  Finally  three  girls,  with  Rhoda  as 
leader,  took  their  axes  every  Sunday  afternoon 
and  went  out  and  worked  clearing  that  road.  In 
a  month  it  was  done.  The  doctor  now  calls  it 
"Rhoda's  Randy." 

[  42  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Yesterday  afternoon  I  was  out  with  my  cam- 
era. (Saturday  you  will  note.  I  have  learned  al- 
ready that  to  be  seen  on  Sundays  in  this  Sabba- 
tarian spot,  even  walking  about  with  that  incon- 
spicuous black  box,  is  anathema.)  A  crowd  of 
children  in  a  disjointed  procession  had  collected 
in  front  of  the  hospital,  and  the  patients  on  the 
balconies  were  delightedly  craning  their  necks. 
A  biting  blast  was  blowing,  but  the  children, 
clad  in  white  garments,  looked  oblivious  to  wind 
and  weather.  It  was  a  Sunday-School  picnic.  A 
dear  old  fisherman  was  with  them,  evidently  the 
leader. 

"  What 's  it  all  about?  "  I  asked. 

"We've  come  to  serenade  the  sick,  miss.  'T  is 
little  enough  pleasure  'em  has.  Now,  children, 
sing  up";  and  the  "serenade"  began.  It  was 
"Asleep  in  Jesus,"  and  the  patients  loved  it!  I 
got  my  picture,  "sketched  them  off,"  as  the  old 
fellow  expressed  it. 

In  the  many  weeks  since  I  saw  you  —  and  it 
[43] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


seems  a  lifetime  —  I  have  forgotten  to  mention 
one  important  item  of  news.  Every  properly  ap- 
pointed settlement  along  this  coast  has  its  ceme- 
tery. This  place  boasts  two.  With  your  predilec- 
tion for  epitaphs  you  would  be  content.  The  pre- 
vailing mode  appears  to  be  clasped  hands  under 
a  bristling  crown;  but  all  the  same  that  sort  of 
thing  makes  a  more  "cheerful"  graveyard  than 
those  gloomily  beautiful  monuments  with  their 
hopeless  "%ai/3eTe  "  that  you  remember  in  the  mu- 
seum at  Athens.  There  is  one  here  which  reads; 

Memory  of  John  Hill 

who  Died 
December  30th.  1889 

Weep  not,  dear  Parents, 
For  your  loss  *t  is 
My  etarnal  gain  May 
Christ  you  all  take  up 
the  Cross  that  we 
Should  meat  again. 

The  spelling  may  not  always  be  according  to 

Webster,  but  the  sentiments  portray  the  love 

[  44  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

and  hope  of  a  God-fearing  people  unspoiled  by 
the  roughening  touch  of  civihzation. 

I  must  to  bed.  Stupidly  enough,  this  climate 
gives  me  insomnia.  Probably  it  is  the  mixture  of 
the  cold  and  the  long  twilight  (I  can  read  at 
9.30),  and  the  ridiculous  habit  of  growing  light 
again  at  about  three  in  the  morning.  I  am  be- 
ginning to  have  a  fellow  feeling  with  the  chick- 
ens of  Norway,  poor  dears ! 


[  45 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


August  9 
I  WANT  to  violently  controvert  your  disparaging 
remarks  about  this  "insignificant  little  island." 
Do  you  realize  that  this  same  "insignificant 
little  island"  is  four  times  bigger  than  Scot- 
land, and  that  it  has  under  its  dominion  a  large 
section  of  Labrador?  If,  as  the  local  people  say, 
"  God  made  the  world  in  five  days,  made  Labra- 
dor on  the  sixth,  and  spent  the  seventh  throwing 
stones  at  it,"  then  a  goodly  portion  of  those 
stones  landed  by  mischance  in  St.  Antoine.  In- 
deed, Le  Petit  Nord  and  Labrador  are  so  much 
ahke  in  cUmate,  people,  and  conditions  that 
this  part  of  the  island  is  often  designated  locally 
as  Labrador  (never  has  it  been  my  lot  to  see 
a  more  desolate,  bleak,  and  barren  sp>ot).  The 
traveller  who  described  Newfoundland  as  a 
country  composed  chiefly  of  ponds  with  a  little 
land  to  divide  them  from  the  sea,  at  least  cannot 
be  impeached  for  unveracity.  In  this  northern 
[46  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

part  even  that  little  is  rendered  almost  impene- 
trable in  the  summer-time  by  the  thick  under- 
brush, known  as  "tuckamore,"  and  the  formida- 
ble swarms  of  mosquitoes  and  black  flies.  All  the 
inhabitants  live  on  the  coast,  and  the  interior  is 
only  travelled  over  in  the  winter  with  komatik 
and  dogs. 

No,  I  am  not  living  in  the  midst  of  Indians  or 
Eskimos.  Please  be  good  enough  to  scatter  this 
information  broadcast,  for  each  letter  from  Eng- 
land reveals  the  fear  that  I  am  in  imminent  dan- 
ger of  being  scalped  alive  or  buried  in  an  igloo. 
There  are  a  few  scattered  Eskimos  on  Le  Petit 
Nord,  but  for  the  most  part  the  inhabitants  are 
whites  and  half-breeds.  The  Indians  hve  almost 
entirely  in  the  interior  of  Labrador  and  the  Es- 
kimos around  the  Moravian  stations.  I  am  Uv- 
ing  amongst  the  descendants  of  the  fishermen  of 
Dorset  and  Devon  who  came  out  about  two  hun- 
dred years  ago  and  settled  on  this  coast  for  the 
cod-fishery.  Those  who  Hve  in  the  south  are 
[47] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


comparatively  well  off,  but  many  in  the  north 
are  in  great  poverty  and  often  on  the  verge  of 
starvation. 

When  I  look  about  me  and  see  this  poverty, 
the  ignorance  born  of  lack  of  opportunity,  the 
suffering,  the  dirt,  and  degradation  which  are  in 
so  large  a  measure  no  fault  of  these  poor  folk,  I 
am  overwhelmed  at  the  wealth  of  opportunities. 
Here  at  least  every  talent  one  has  to  offer  counts 
for  double  what  it  would  at  home. 

Thousands  of  fishermen  come  from  the  south 
each  spring  to  take  part  in  the  summer's  fishery. 
The  Labrador  "liveyeres,"  who  remain  on  the 
coast  all  the  year  round,  often  have  only  little 
one-roomed  huts  made  of  wood  and  covered 
with  sods.  In  the  winter  the  northern  people 
move  up  the  bays  and  go  "furring."  Both  the 
Indians  and  Eskimos  are  diminishing  in  num- 
bers, and  the  former  at  the  present  time  do  not 
amount  to  more  than  three  or  four  thousand 
persons  —  and  of  these  the  Montagnais  tribe 
[  48  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

make  up  more  than  half.  The  Moravian  mission- 
aries have  toiled  untiringly  amongst  the  Eski- 
mos, and  assuredly  not  for  any  earthly  reward. 
They  go  out  as  young  men  and  practically  spend 
their  whole  life  on  the  coast,  their  wives  being 
selected  and  sent  out  to  them  from  home! 

The  work  of  this  Mission  is  among  the  white 
settlers.  In  the  Home  we  have  only  one  pure 
Eskimo,  a  few  half-breeds  (Indians  and  Es- 
kimo), and  the  remainder  are  of  English  de- 
scent. Almost  all  are  from  Labrador. 

I  often  fancy  that  I  must  surely  have  slept 
the  sleep  of  Rip  Van  Winkle.  When  he  woke  he 
found  that  the  world  had  marched  ahead  a  hun- 
dred years.  With  me  the  process  is  reversed.  I 
am  almost  inclined  to  yield  a  grudging  agree- 
ment to  the  transmigrationalists,  and  believe 
that  I  am  re-living  one  of  my  former  existences. 
For  the  part  of  the  country  in  which  I  have 
awakened  is  a  generation  or  so  behind  the  world 
in  which  we  live.  There  is  no  education  worthy 
[49] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


of  the  name,  in  many  places  no  schools  at  all, 
and  in  others  half -educated  teachers  eking  out  a 
miserable  existence  on  a  mere  pittance.  This  is 
chiefly  due  to  the  antediluvian  custom  of  divid- 
ing the  Government  educational  grant  on  a  de- 
nominational basis.  A  large  proportion  of  the 
people  can  neither  read  nor  write.  There  are  no 
roads,  no  means  of  communication,  no  doctors 
or  hospitals  (save  the  Mission  ones),  no  oppor- 
tunities for  improvement,  no  industrial  work, 
practically  no  domestic  animals,  and  on  Labra- 
dor, taxation  without  representation!  There  is 
only  one  hospital  provided  by  the  Government 
for  the  whole  of  this  island,  and  that  one  is  at  St. 
John's,  which  is  inaccessible  to  these  northern 
people  for  the  greater  part  of  the  year.  No  pro- 
vision whatever  is  made  by  the  Government  for 
hospitals  for  the  Labrador.  Again  the  only  ones 
are  those  maintained  by  this  Mission.  Lack  of 
education,  lack  of  opportunity,  and  abundance 
of  overwhelming  poverty  make  up  the  lot  of  the 
[50] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

majority  of  people  in  this  north  part  of  the 
country.  Little  wonder  from  their  point  of  view, 
that  one  youth,  returning  to  this  land  after  see- 
ing others,  declared  that  the  man  he  desired 
above  all  others  to  shoot  was  John  Cabot,  the 
discoverer  of  Newfoundland. 


[51  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


August  15 
You  complain  that  I  have  told  you  almost  noth- 
ing about  these  children,  and  you  want  to  know 
what  they  are  like.  And  I  wish  you  to  know,  so 
that  you  will  stop  sending  dolls  to  Mary  who  is 
sixteen,  and  cakes  of  scented  soap  to  David  who 
hates  above  all  else  to  be  washed.  I  find  these 
children  very  difficult  in  some  ways;  many  of 
them  are  mentally  deficient,  but  it  appears  that 
no  provision  is  made  by  the  Government  for  deal- 
ing with  such  cases,  and  so  there  is  nothing  to  do 
but  take  them  in  or  let  them  starve.  Some  are 
very  wild  and  none  have  the  slightest  idea  of 
obedience  when  they  first  arrive. 

One  girl  I  have  christened  "Topsy,"  and  I 
only  wish  you  could  see  her  when  she  is  in  one  of 
her  tantrums,  which  she  has  at  frequent  inter- 
vals. With  her  flashing  black  eyes,  straight,  jet- 
black  hair,  square,  squat  shoulders,  she  looks 
the  very  embodiment  of  the  Evil  One.  She  is 
I  52  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

twelve,  but  shows  neither  abihty  nor  desire  to 
learn.  Her  habits  are  disgusting,  and  unless 
closely  watched  she  will  be  found  filling  her 
pockets  with  the  contents  of  the  garbage  pail  — 


and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  are  no  longer 
dining  off  one  herring.  She  says  that  her  ambi- 
tion in  life  is  to  become  like  a  fat  pig !  Last  night, 
[53] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


when  the  children  were  safely  tucked  in  bed  and 
I  had  sat  down  to  write  to  you,  piercing  shrieks 
were  heard  resounding  through  the  stillness 
of  the  house.  A  tour  of  investigation  revealed 
Topsy  creeping  from  bed  to  bed  in  the  darkness, 
pretending  to  cut  the  throats  of  the  girls  with  a 


large  carving-knife  which  she  had  stolen  for  this 
purpose.  To-day  Topsy  is  going  around  with  her 
hands  tied  behind  her  back  as  a  punishment, 
and  in  the  hope  that  without  the  use  of  her 
hands  we  may  have  one  day  of  peace  at  least. 
Poor  Topsy,  kindness  and  severity  alike  seem 
unavailing.  She  steals  and  lies  with  the  greatest 
readiness,  and  one  wonders  what  life  holds  in 
store  for  her. 

[54] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

We  have  just  admitted  three  children,  so  we 
now  number  more  than  the  three  dozen.  One 
Httle  mite  of  five  was  found  last  winter  in  a 
Labrador  hut,  deserted,  half -starved,  and  nearly 
frozen  to  death.  She  was  kept  by  a  kindly  neigh- 
bour until  the  ice  conditions  allowed  of  her  being 
brought  here.  The  other  two,  brother  and  sister, 
were  found,  the  girl  clothed  in  a  sack,  her  one 
and  only  garment,  and  the  boy  in  bed,  minus 
even  that  covering.  This  is  the  type  of  child  who 
comes  to  us. 

The  doctor  in  charge  has  just  paid  me  a  visit. 
He  says  there  is  an  epidemic  of  smallp>ox  in  the 
island,  and  he  wants  all  the  children  to  be  vac- 
cinated. The  number  of  cases  of  smallpox  this 
year  in  this  "insignificant  little  island"  is 
greater  'pro  rata  than  in  any  other  country  of 
the  world.  So  two  o'clock  this  afternoon  is  the 
time  set  apart  for  the  massacre  of  the  innocents. 

The  laugh  is  against  me !  Two  of  our  boys  fell 
ill  with  a  mysterious  sickness,  and  tenderly  and 
[55] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


carefully  were  they  nursed  by  me  and  fed  with 
dehcate  portions  from  the  king's  table.  I  later 
learned  with  much  chagrin  that  "chewing  to- 
bacco" (strictly  forbidden)  was  the  cause  of  this 
sudden  onset.  My  sense  of  humour  alone  saved 
the  situation  for  them! 


[56  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

The  Children's  Home 
August  19 

In  response  to  my  frantic  cables  your  box 
reached  here  safely,  but  it  has  not  reached  me. 
Picture  if  you  can  my  amazed  incredulity  yes- 
terday to  see  an  exact  replica  of  myself  as  I  once 
was,  walking  on  the  dock.  I  rubbed  my  eyes  and 
stared.  Yes,  it  was  my  purple  gown.  My  first 
impulse  was  to  jerk  it  off  the  culprit,  but  I  de- 
cided on  more  diplomatic  tactics.  A  very  little 
detective  work  elucidated  the  mystery.  You  had 
addressed  the  box  in  care  of  the  Mission,  think- 
ing doubtless,  in  your  far-sighted,  Scotch  way, 
that  if  sent  to  an  individual,  the  said  individual 
would  have  duty  to  pay.  Knowing  all  too  well 
the  chronic  state  of  my  pocket-book,  you  antici- 
pated untoward  complications.  Now,  none  of 
the  Mission  staff  pay  duties.  The  contents  of  the 
box  were  mistaken  for  reinforcements  for  the 
charity  clothing  store,  and  to-day  my  purple 
chambray  gown,  "to  memory  dear,'*  walks  the 
[57  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


street  on  another.  Sic  transit.  I  should  add  that 
one  of  the  modernists  of  our  harbour  has  chosen 
it.  The  old  conservatives  regard  our  collarless 
necks  and  abbreviated  skirts  with  horror.  What 
with  the  loss  en  route  of  several  necessary  arti- 
cles of  apparel,  and  the  discovery  of  this  further 
depletion  of  my  wardrobe,  I  regard  the  oncom- 
ing winter  with  some  misgivings. 

One  of  the  crew  on  the  Northern  Light,  alias 
the  Prophet,  so-called  because  he  is  spirit 
brother  to  the  Prophet  of  Doom,  took  a  keen 
relish  in  my  discomfiture,  or  I  fancied  he  did.  He 
it  was  who  put  the  question  in  the  doctor's  Bible 
class,  "Is  it  religious  to  wear  overalls  to  church?  " 
The  house  oflScer  had  carefully  saved  a  pair  of 
clean  khaki  trousers  to  honour  the  Sunday  serv- 
ices, but  in  the  local  judgment  they  were  no  fit 
garment  for  the  Lord's  house.  Local  judgment,  I 
may  add,  was  not  so  drastic  in  its  strictures  on 
boudoir  caps.  Some  very  pretty  ones  came  to 
service  on  the  heads  of  the  choir,  but  the  verdict 
[58  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

was  a  unanimously  favourable  one.  A  nomadic 
Ladies*  Home  Journal  was  responsible  for  their 
origin. 

"Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes,"  etc.  I  have 
been  trying  to  teach  the  Httle  ones  the  thir- 


59  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


teenth  chapter  of  Corinthians.  Whilst  undress- 
ing Solomon  the  other  night  I  had  occasion,  or 
it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had,  to  speak  somewhat 
sharply  to  one  of  the  others.  When  I  turned  my 
attention  again  to  Solomon,  he  enunciated  sol- 
emnly in  his  baby  tones,  "Though  I  speak  with 
the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels  and  have  not 
love,  I  am  become  as  sounding  brass  and  a  tin- 
khng  cymbal/* 

You  complain  most  unjustly  that  I  do  not 
give  a  chronological  account  of  events.  I  give 
you  the  incidents  which  punctuate  my  days, 
and  as  for  the  background,  nothing  could  be 
simpler  than  to  fill  it  in. 

To  divert  your  mind  from  such  adverse  criti- 
cism, let  me  tell  you  that  there  is  a  strong  sus- 
picion abroad  that  I  am  a  devout  adherent  of  the 
Roman  Church.  Rumours  of  this  have  been  com- 
ing to  me  from  time  to  time,  but  I  determined  to 
withhold  the  news  till  its  source  was  less  in  ques- 
tion. Now  I  have  it  on  the  undeniable  authority 
[CO] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

of  the  Propliet.  I  have  candles,  lighted  ones,  on 
the  dining-room  table  at  dinner.  Post  hoc,  prop- 
ter hoc  —  and  what  further  proof  is  needed! 
Ananias  has  broken  yet  another  window. 


•    \ 


1 

7J 

: 

% 

& 

i| 

When  I  questioned  him  as  to  when  the  deed  had 
been  committed,  he  rephed  pohtely,  but  mourn- 
fully, that  he  really  could  not  tell  me  how  many 
YEARS  ago  it  was,  as  if  I  were  seeking  to  xinearth 
some  long  undiscovered  crime. 


[61  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


August  25 
The  other  day  Topsy  had  the  misfortune  to  fall 
out  of  bed  and  hit  her  two  front  teeth  such  a  vio- 
lent blow  on  the  iron  bar  of  the  cot  beside  hers 
that  bits  of  ivory  flew  about  the  dormitory.  This 
necessitated  a  prompt  matutinal  visit  to  Dr.  B., 
the  dentist.  As  we  waited  our  turn  in  the  Con- 
valescent Room,  I  overheard  one  patient-to-be 
remark  to  his  neighbour,  "They  do  be  shockin' 
hard  on  us  poor  sailors.  They  says  I've  got  to 
take  a  bath  when  I  comes  into  hospital.  Why, 
B'y>  I  bas  n't  had  a  bath  since  my  mother 
washed  me!" 

The  ethics  of  dentistry  here  are  so  mixed  that 
one  needs  a  Solomon  to  disentangle  them.  Mrs. 
"Uncle  Life"  —  her  husband  is  Uncle  Eliphalet 
—  recently  had  all  her  teeth  pulled  out,  or,  to 
be  more  accurate,  all  her  remaining  teeth.  As  the 
operation  involved  considerable  time,  labour, 
and  novocaine,  she  was  charged  for  the  benefit 
[  C2  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

of  the  hospital.  When  two  shining  sets,  uppers 
and  lowers,  were  ready  for  her,  she  was  as 
pleased  as  a  boy  with  his  first  jack-knife;  but 
not  so  Uncle  Life.  He  considered  it  a  work  of 
supererogation  that  not  only  must  one  pay  to 
have  the  old  teeth  removed,  but  for  the  new  ones 
to  replace  them. 

Did  I  ever  write  you  about  our  chamber- 
maid's feet  —  the  new  one?  Her  name  is  Ase-> 
nath,  and  she  is  so  perfectly  spherical  that  if  you 
were  to  start  her  rolhng  down  a  plank  she  could 
no  more  stop  than  can  those  humpty-dumpty 
weighted  dolls.  'Senath's  temper  is  exemplary, 
and  her  intentions  of  the  best;  in  fact,  she  will 
turn  into  a  model  maid. 

But  the  process  of  turning  is  in  progress  at 
the  moment.  It  began  with  our  cook,  a  pattern 
of  neatness  and  all  the  virtues,  coming  into  my 
office  and  complaining,  "One^of  us '11  have  to 
go,  miss." 

"What?  Which?"  I  enquired,  da-zed  by  the 
163] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


abruptness  of  this  decision,  and  wondering 
whether  she  were  referring  to  me. 

"This  morning,  miss,  you  know  how  hot  it 
was?  Well,  'Senath  comes  into  the  kitchen  and 
says  to  me,  *Tryphena,  I  finds  my  feet  some- 
thing wonderful.'  *Wash  them,  and  change 
your  stockings,'  I  says. '  Wash  them !  Why,  Try- 
phena,  I  'se  feared  to  do  that.  I  might  get  a  chill 
as  would  strike  in.' " 

In  a  few  well-chosen  sentences  I  have  ex- 
plained to  'Senath  the  basic  rules  of  hygiene  and 
of  this  house  regarding  water  and  its  uses.  She 
has  decided  to  stay  and  accept  the  inevitable 
weekly  bath,  but  she  warns  me  fairly  that  if  she 
goes  "into  a  decline,"  I  must  take  the  respon- 
sibihty  with  her  parents! 

With  your  zeal  for  gardens,  and  your  attach- 
ment to  angle-worms  —  which  you  will  recall  I 
do  not  share  —  you  would  be  interested  in  our 
efforts  along  these  lines  —  the  gardens,  not  the 
worms.  In  tliis  climate  a  garden  is  a  lottery,  and 
[  64  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

in  ten  seasons  to  one  a  spiteful  summer  frost  will 
fall  upon  the  promising  potatoes  and  kill  the  lot 
just  as  they  are  ripening.  The  Eskimos  at  the 
Moravian  stations  put  their  vegetal  charges  to 
bed  each  night  with  long  covers  over  the  rows. 
The  other  day,  in  an  old  journal  about  the  coun- 
try, I  came  upon  this  passage,  and  it  struck  me 
**How  history  does  repeat  itself."  It  runs:  "The 
soyle  along  the  coast  is  not  deep  of  earth,  but 
bringing  forth  abundantly  peason  small,  peason 
which  our  countrymen  have  sowen  have  come 
up  f  aire,  of  which  our  Generall  had  a  present  ac- 
ceptable for  the  rarenesse,  being  the  first  fruits 
coming  up  by  art  and  industrie  in  that  desolate 
and  dishabited  land."  I  can  assure  you  that  the 
sight  of  a  "peason,"  however  small,  if  it  did  not 
come  out  of  a  tin  can,  would  be  an  acceptable 
offering  to  your  friend.  Even  in  summer  we  get 
no  fresh  vegetables  or  fruits  with  the  exception 
of  occasional  lettuce  or  local  berries.  The  epit- 
ome of  this  spot  is  a  tin !  Li  the  same  old  journal 
[65  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


Whitboume  goes  on  to  say  that  "Nature  had 
recompensed  that  only  defect  and  incommoditie 
of  some  sharpe  cold  by  many  benefits  —  with  in- 
credible quantitie  and  no  less  varietie  of  kindes 
of  fish  in  the  sea  and  fresh  water,  of  trouts  and 
salmons  and  other  fish  to  us  unknowen." 

I  have  eaten  fish  (interspersed  liberally  with 
tinned  stuff)  and  drunken  fish  and  thought  and 
spoken  and  dreamt  fish  ever  since  I  arrived.  But 
don't  pity  me  for  imaginary  hardships.  I  Hke  fish 
better  than  I  do  meat,  and  for  that  matter  our 
winter  meat  supply  is  walking  past  my  window 
this  minute.  He  goes  by  the  name  of  "Billy  the 
Ox";  and  I  am  informed  that  as  soon  as  it 
begins  to  freeze,  he  is  to  be  killed  and  frozen  in 
toto,  for  the  winter  consumption  of  the  staff, 
patients,  and  children.  So  our  winter  is  not  to 
consist  of  one  long  Friday. 


[  66] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


August  28 
You  already  know  the  worst  about  my  leanings 
to  Papacy;  but  to-day  I  propose  to  set  your 
mind  at  rest  on  an  idea  with  which  you  have 
hypnotized  yourself  —  namely,  that  I  am  go- 
ing to  die  of  malnutrition  during  what  you  are 
pleased  to  term  the  "long  Arctic  winter."  I  have 
no  intention  of  starving,  and  as  for  the  "long 
Arctic  winter,'*  I  do  not  believe  there  is  any  such 
beast,  as  the  farmer  said  when  he  looked  at  the 
kangaroo  in  the  circus. 

I  was  sitting  by  my  window  quietly  sewing 
the  other  day  (that  sentence  alone  should  reveal 
to  you  how  many  miles  I  have  travelled  from 
your  tutelage)  when  I  overheard  one  of  the  chil- 
dren stoutly  defending  what  I  took  at  first  to  be 
my  character.  The  next  sentence  disabused  me 
—  it  was  my  figure  under  discussion. 

"She's  not  fat!"  averred  Topsy.  "I'll  smack 
you  if  you  says  it  again.'* 
[67  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


"Well,"  muttered  David,  the  light  of  reason 
being  thus  forcibly  borne  in  upon  him,  "she  may 
not  be  *zactly  fat,  but  she 's  fine  and  hearty.'* 


If  this  is  the  case,  and  my  mirror  all  too 
plainly  confirms  the  verdict,  and  the  summer 
has  not  waned,  what  will  the  "last  estate  of 
that  woman  be,"  after  the  winter  has  passed 
over  her?  They  tell  me  that  every  one  here  puts 
on  fat  in  the  cold  weather  as  a  kind  of  windproof 
jacket.  I  enclose  a  photograph  of  me  on  land- 
ing, so  you  may  remember  me  as  I  was. 

No,  you  need  not  worry  either  over  communi- 
[68] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

cations  in  the  winter.  You  really  ought  to  have 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  our  telegraph 
service,  after  you  have,  so  to  speak,  subsidized 
it  during  the  past  three  months.  It  runs  in  win- 
ter as  well  as  summer;  and  I  see  no  prospect  of 
its  closing  if  you  keep  it  on  such  a  sound  finan- 
cial basis.  Moreover,  the  building  is  devoted  to 
the  administration  of  the  law  in  all  its  branches. 
One  half  of  it  is  the  post  and  telegraph  office, 
while  the  other  serves  as  the  jail.  The  whole 
structure  is  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  church 
and  school,  as  if  the  corrective  institutions  of  the 
place  beheved  in  intensive  cultivation.  But  to 
return  to  the  jail.  The  walls  are  very  thin,  and 
every  sound  from  it  can  be  plainly  heard  in  the 
telegraph  office  adjoining.  Friday  morning  the 
operator,  a  capable  and  long-suffering  young 
woman,  came  over  to  complain  to  the  doctor 
that  she  really  found  it  impossible  to  carry  out 
the  duties  of  her  office,  if  the  feeble-minded 
Delilah  Freak  was  to  be  incarcerated  only  six 
[69] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


inches  distant  from  her  ear.  It  seems  that  Deli- 
lah spends  her  days  yelhng  at  the  top  of  her 
Imigs,  and  IVIiss  Dennis  states  that  she  prefers 


to  take  telegraphic  messages  down  in  competi- 
tion with  the  mail  steamer's  winch  rather  than 
with  Delilah's  "bawling." 

I  know  all  about  competition  in  noises 
after  trying  to  write  in  this  house.  The  ceilings 
are  low  and  thin,  and  the  walls  are  near  and 
thin,  and  the  children  are  omnipresent  and 
not  thin,  and  their  wants  and  their  joys  and 
their  quarrels  are  as  numerous  as  the  fishes 
[70] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

ia  the  sea,  and  there  you  have   the  problem 
in  a  nutshell. 

Now  I  must  "hapse  the  door,"  and  hie  me  to 
bed.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the  people  here  are  far 
too  honest  for  us  to  lock  the  doors.  Such  a  thing 
as  theft  is  unheard  of.  Some  may  call  it  uncivi- 
lized. I  call  it  the  millennium! 


[71] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


August  31 
I  BELIEVE  that  the  writer  who  described  the  cli- 
mate of  this  country  as  being  "nine  months 
snow  and  three  months  winter"  was  not  far 
from  the  truth.  In  June  the  temperature  of  our 
rooms  registered  just  above  freezing  point,  in 
July  we  were  enveloped  in  continuous  fog,  and 
in  August  we  are  having  snow. 

Such  a  tragic  event  has  occurred.  Our  lettuce 
has  been  eaten  by  the  Mission  cow!  You  know 
how  hard  it  is  to  get  anything  to  grow  here. 
Well,  after  having  nearly  killed  ourselves  in 
making  a  square  inch  of  ground  into  something 
resembling  a  bed,  we  had  watched  this  lettuce 
grow  from  day  to  day  as  the  little  green  shoots 
struggled  bravely  against  the  frost  and  cold. 
Then  a  few  nights  ago  I  was  awakened  by  the 
tinkle  of  a  bell  beneath  my  window.  Hastily 
flinging  on  wrapper  and  shoes  I  fled  to  save  our 
one  and  only  ewe  lamb.  But  all  the  morning 
[  72  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

light  revealed  was  a  desperate  cold  in  the  head, 
and  an  empty  bed  from  which  the  glory  had 
departed. 

Topsy  has  just  been  amusing  herself  by  turn- 
ing on  the  corridor  taps  to  watch  the  water  run 
downstairs !  Oh !  Topsy, 

"'T  is  thine  to  teach  us  what  dull  hearts  forget 
How  near  of  kin  we  are  to  springing  flowers." 

News  has  just  reached  us  that  the  mail  boat 
from  St.  Barbe  to  St.  Antoine  has  gone  ashore  on 
the  rocks  and  is  a  total  wreck.  Happily  no  lives 
were  lost,  but  unhappily  wrecks  are  of  such  fre- 
quent occurrence  on  this  dangerous  coast  as  to 
excite  little  comment. 

Drusilla,  aged  five,  has  been  to  my  door  to  en- 
quire if  the  children  may  play  with  their  dolls  in 
the  house.  I  believe  in  open-air  treatment,  so 
I  replied  with  kindness,  but  firmly  withal,  that 
"out  of  doors "  was  the  order  of  the  day.  I  was  a 
little  electrified  to  hear  her  return  to  the  play- 
room and  announce  that  *'  Teacher  says  you  are 
[  73  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


to  go  out,  every  darned  one  of  you!"  I  was 
equally  electrified  the  other  day  to  overhear 
Drusilla  enquiring  of  her  fellow  philosophers 
which  they  liked  the  best,  "Teacher,  the  Doc- 
tor, or  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

In  the  midst  of  writing  to  you  I  was  called 
away  to  interview  a  young  man  from  the  other 
side  of  the  harbour.  He  wanted  me  to  give  him 
some  of  the  milk  used  in  the  Home,  for  his  baby, 
as  at  the  hospital  they  could  only  furnish  him 
with  canned  milk,  guaranteed  by  the  label,  he 
claimed,  to  give  "typhoid,  diphtheria,  and  scar- 
let fever"! 


[74] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


September  7 
It  is  a  windy,  rainy  night,  and  I  have  told 
Topsy,  who  has  a  cold,  that  she  cannot  come 
with  us  to  church.  After  a  wild  outburst  of  anger 
she  was  heard  to  mutter  that  "Teacher  would  n't 
let  her  go  to  church  because  she  wa3  afraid  she 
would  get  too  good." 

The  fall  of  the  year  is  coming  on  and  the  eve- 
nings are  made  wonderful  by  two  phenomena  — 
the  departure  of  the  cannibalistic  flies,  and  the 
Northern  lights.  Twice  at  home  I  remember 
seeing  an  attenuated  aurora  and  thinking  it 
wonderful.  No  words  can  describe  this  display 
on  these  crisp  and  lovely  nights.  There  is  a  tang 
and  snap  in  the  air,  and  the  earth  beneath  and 
the  heavens  above  seem  vibrating  with  un- 
earthly life.  The  Eskimos  say  that  the  Northern 
lights  are  the  spirits  of  the  dead  at  play,  but  I 
like  to  think  of  them,  too,  as  the  translated  souls 
of  the  icebergs  which  have  gone  south  and  met  a 
[75] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


too  warm  and  watery  death  in  the  Gulf  Stream. 
Certainly  all  the  colours  of  those  lovely  mon- 
archs  of  the  North  are  reflected  dimly  in  the 
heavens.  The  lights  move  about  so  constantly 
that  one  fancies  that  the  soul  of  the  berg,  freed 
at  last  from  its  long  prison,  is  showing  the  aston- 
ished worlds  of  what  it  is  capable.  The  odd  thing 
was  that  when  I  first  saw  them  on  a  clear  night, 
the  stars  shone  through  them,  only  they  looked 
like  Coleridge's  "wan  stars  which  danced  be- 
tween." 

I  can  vouch  for  the  truth  of  another  "side- 
Hght,"  though  from  only  one  experience.  One 
night  last  week,  clear  and  frosty,  I  had  just  gone 
to  my  room  at  about  eleven  o'clock  when  the 
doctor  called  me  to  come  out  and  "hear  the 
lights."  I  thought  surely  I  must  have  misun- 
derstood, but  on  reaching  the  balcony  and  lis- 
tening, I  could  distinctly  hear  the  swish  of  the 
"spirits"  as  they  rushed  across  the  sky.  It 
sounds  like  a  diminished  silk  petticoat  which 
\  76  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

has  lost  its  blatancy,  but  retains  its  person- 
ality. 

Little  did  I  realize  at  the  time  my  good  for- 
tune in  arriving  here  in  daylight.  It  seems  that 
it  is  the  invariable  habit  of  all  coastal  steamers 
to  reach  here  at  night,  and  dump  the  dumbly 
resenting  passengers  in  the  darkness  into  the 
tiny  punts  which  cluster  around  the  ship's  side. 
Since  my  arrival  every  single  boat  has  appeared 
shortly  before  midnight,  or  shortly  after.  In 
either  case  it  means  that  the  men  of  the  Mis- 
sion must  work  all  night  landing  patients  and 
freight,  and  the  next  day  there  is  a  chastened 
and  sleepy  community  to  meet  the  forthcoming 
tasks.  It  is  especially  hard  on  the  hospital  folk, 
for  the  steamer  only  takes  about  twenty  hours 
to  go  to  the  end  of  her  run  and  return,  and  they 
try  and  send  those  cases  which  do  not  have  to  be 
admitted  back  by  the  same  boat  on  her  southern 
journey.  This  means  an  all-night  clinic.  But  I 
can  say  to  the  credit  of  the  patients  and  staff 
[  77  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


that  I  have  never  heard  one  word  of  complaint. 
That  is  certainly  a  charming  feature  about  this 
life.  There  are  plenty  of  things  to  growl  about, 
but  one  is  so  reduced  to  essentials  that  the 
ones  selected  are  of  more  importance  than  those 
which  afford  such  fruitful  topics  in  civilization. 

I  have  just  overheard  Gabriel  informing  the 
other  children  that  "Satan  was  once  an  angel, 
but  he  got  real  saucy,  so  God  turned  him  out  of 
heaven."  Paradise  Lost  in  a  sentence! 

The  night  after  the  audible  lights  a  furious 
rain  and  wind  storm  broke  over  us.  No  wonder 
the  trees  have  such  a  struggle  for  existence,  if 
these  storms  are  frequent.  They  do  not  last  long, 
but  they  are  the  real  thing  while  they  are  in 
progress.  I  used  to  smile  when  I  was  told  that 
the  Home  was  riveted  with  iron  bolts  to  the  solid 
bedrock,  but  that  night  when  I  lay  wide  awake, 
combating  an  incipient  feehng  of  mal  de  mer  as 
my  bed  rocked  with  the  force  of  the  gale,  I 
thanked  the  fates  for  the  foresight  of  the  build- 
[78] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

ers.  Never  before  had  I  believed  in  the  tale  of  the 
church  having  been  blown  bodily  into  the  har- 
bour; but  during  those  wild  hours  of  darkness 
I  was  certain  at  each  succeeding  gust  that  we 
were  going  to  follow  its  example. 

Dawn  —  a  pale  affair  looking  out  suspiciously 
on  the  chastened  world  —  broke  at  last,  and  I 
"histed"  my  window  (to  quote  the  estimable 
*Senath).  The  rain  had  stopped.  The  cheated 
wind  was  whistling  around  the  corners  of  the  old 
wooden  buildings,  and  taking  out  its  spite  on 
any  passers-by  who  must  venture  forth  to  work. 
The  harbour,  usually  so  peaceful  and  so  shel- 
tered, was  lashed  into  a  cauldron  of  boiling 
white  foam,  and  the  rocks  were  swept  so  clean 
that  they  at  least  had  "shining  morning 
faces." 

I  dressed  quickly  and  ran  down  to  the  wharf 

to  enquire  as  to  the  health  of  the  Northern 

Light.  The  first  person  I  met  was  the  Prophet. 

He  was  positively  elate.  If  I  were  a  pantheist 

[79  J 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


I  should  think  him  a  relative  of  the  northeast 
wind.  The  storm  of  the  previous  night  had  been 
exactly  to  his  liking.  All  his  worst  prognostica- 
tions had  been  fulfilled,  and  quite  a  bit  thrown 
in  par  dessus  le  marche.  He  told  me  that  a  tiny, 
rickety  house  across  the  harbour  had  first  been 
unroofed,  and  then  one  of  the  walls  blown  in.  It 
is  a  real  disaster  for  the  family,  for  they  are  poor 
enough  without  having  Xismet  thus  descend 
upon  them. 

The  hospital  boat  had  held  on  safely,  but 
several  little  craft  were  driven  ashore.  Natu- 
rally the  children  love  the  aftermath  of  such  an 
event,  for  the  world  is  turned  for  them  into  one 
large,  entrancing  puddle,  bordered  with  em- 
bryo mud  pies. 

Topsy  again !  I  am  informed  that  she  has 
tried  to  convert  her  Sunday  best  into  a  hobble 
skirt,  reducing  it  in  the  process  to  something 
hopelessly  ludicrous.  It  can  never,  never  be 
worn  again. 

[80] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

My  arm  aches  and  I  cannot  decide  whether  it 
is  from  much  orphan  scrubbing  or  from  much 
writing,  but  in  either  case  I  must  bid  you  au 
revoir. 


[81] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


September  25 
Last  niglit  I  was  awakened  by  a  terrific  noise 
proceeding  from  the  lower  regions.  Armed  with 
my  umbrella,  the  only  semblance  of  a  stick 
within  reach,  I  descended  on  a  tour  of  investiga- 
tion. Opening  the  larder  door  I  beheld  six  huge 
dogs,  and  devastation  reigning  supreme.  These 
dogs  are  half  wolf  in  breed,  and  very  destruc- 
tive, as  I  can  testify.  When  I  wildly  brandished 
my  umbrella,  which  could  not  possibly  have 
harmed  them,  they  jumped  through  the  closed 
window,  leaving  not  a  pane  of  glass  behind. 
This,  I  suppose,  is  merely  a  nocturnal  interlude 
to  break  the  monotony  of  life  in  a  country 
which  boasts  no  burglars. 

The  children  attend  the  Mission  school,  and 
yesterday  Topsy  was  sent  home  in  dire  disgrace 
for  lying  and  cheating.  She  is  not  to  be  per- 
mitted to  return  until  she  is  willing  to  confess 
and  apologize.  She  thereupon  tried  to  commit 
[  82] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

suicide  by  swallowing  paper  pellets,  and  in  the 
night  the  doctor  had  to  be  called  in  to  prescribe. 
She  is  white  and  wan  to-day,  but  when  I  went  in 
to  bid  her  good-night  I  found  her  thrilling  over  a 
new  prayer  which  she  had  learned,  and  which 
she  repeated  to  me  with  deep  emotion: 

"Little  children,  be  ye  wise, 
Speak  the  truth  and  tell  no  lies. 
The  Lord's  portion  is  to  dwell 
Forever  in  the  flames  of  hell." 

I  want  to  tell  you  something  about  our  ba- 
bies. They  are  four  in  number.  David,  aged  five, 
considers  himself  quite  a  big  boy,  and  a  leader 
of  the  others.  His  father  was  frozen  to  death  in 
Eskimo  Bay  some  years  ago  whilst  hunting  food 
for  his  family.  Although  David  is  always  boast- 
ing of  his  strength  and  the  superior  wisdom  of 
his  years,  yet  he  is  really  very  tiny  for  his  age. 
He  is  a  delightful  little  optimist,  who  announces 
cheerfully  after  each  failure  to  do  right  that  he 
is  "going  to  be  good  all  the  time  now,"  to  which 
[83] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


we  add  the  mental  reservation,  "until  next 
time."  He  is  the  proud  possessor  of  a  Teddy 
bear.  This  long-suffering  animal  was  a  source  of 
great  pleasure  until  a  short  time  ago  when  David 
started  making  a  first-hand  investigation  to  find 
out  where  the  "squeak"  came  from  —  an  in- 
vestigation which  ended  disastrously  for  the 
bear,  however  it  may  have  furthered  the  cause 
of  science. 

Last  month  I  went  to  Nameless  Cove  to  fetch 
to  the  Home  a  little  boy  of  three,  of  whom  I 
have  already  written  you.  Nameless  Cove  is 
about  twelve  miles  west  of  St.  Antoine.  I  have 
never  seen  such  a  wretched  hovel  —  a  one- 
roomed  log  hut,  completely  destitute  of  furni- 
ture. The  door  was  so  low  I  had  to  bend  almost 
double  to  enter.  A  rough  shelf  did  duty  for  a  bed, 
upon  which  lay  an  old  bedridden  man,  while  at 
the  other  end  lay  a  sick  woman  with  a  child 
beside  her,  and  crouched  below  was  an  idiot 
daughter.  Altogether  nine  persons  Hved  in  tliis 
[  84  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

hut,  eight  adults  and  this  one  boy.  Ananias  is 
an  illegitimate  child,  and  has  lived  with  these 
grandparents  since  his  mother  lost  her  reason 
and  was  removed  to  the  asylum  at  St.  John's. 
The  child  was  almost  destitute  of  clothing,  and 
covered  with  vermin.  He  has  the  face  of  a  ser- 
aph, and  a  voice  that  lisps  out  curses  with  the 
fluency  of  a  veteran  trooper.  Ananias  is  David's 
shadow;  he  follows  him  everywhere,  and  echoes 
all  his  words  as  if  they  were  gems  of  wisdom,  far 
above  rubies.  Lideed,  when  David  has  ceased 
speaking,  one  waits  involuntarily  for  Ananias  to 
begin  in  his  shrill  treble  tones.  He  is  a  hopeless 
child  to  correct,  for  when  you  imagine  you  are 
scolding  him  very  severely,  and  you  look  for  the 
tears  of  penitence  to  flow,  he  puts  up  his  little 
face  with  an  angelic  smile,  and  lisps,  "Tiss  me." 
Drusilla,  whose  slight  acquaintance  you  have 
already  made,  is  three  and  comes  from  Savage 
Cove.  The  father  has  gradually  become  blind 
and  the  mother  is  crippled.  Drusilla  keeps  us  all 
[85] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


on  the  alert,  for  we  never  know  what  she  will  be 
doing  next.  On  Sunday  mornings  she  is  put  to 
rest  with  the  other  Httle  ones  while  we  are  at 
church.  On  returning  last  Sunday  I  found  that 
she  had  secured  a  box  of  white  ointment 
(thought  to  be  quite  beyond  her  reach),  and 
with  her  toothbrush  painted  one  side  of  the 
baby's  face  white,  which  with  her  other  rosy 
cheek  gave  her  the  appearance  of  a  clown.  Not 
content  with  portrait  painting,  Drusilla  then 
turned  her  energies  to  house  decoration,  the  re- 
sult attained  on  the  wall  being  entirely  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  artist,  as  was  evidenced  by 
the  proud  smile  with  which  our  outcry  was 
greeted. 

The  real  baby  is  Beulah,  just  two  years,  and 
she  exercises  her  gentle  but  despotic  sway  over 
all,  from  the  least  to  the  greatest.  She  is  contin- 
ually upsetting  the  standard  of  neatness  which 
was  once  the  glory  of  this  Home,  by  sprawling 
on  the  floors,  dragging  after  her  a  headless  doll 
[86] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

with  sawdust  oozing  from  every  pore.  A  dilapi- 
dated bunny  and  several  mangled  pictures  com- 
plete the  procession.  It  is  hopeless  to  protest, 
for  she  just  looks  as  if  she  could  not  understand 
how  any  one  could  object  to  such  priceless  treas- 
ures. She  awakens  us  at  unconscionable  hours 
in  the  morning,  when  all  reasonable  beings  are 
still  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just,  and  keeps  up  a 
perpetual  chatter  interspersed  with  highly  dan- 
gerous gymnastic  feats  upon  her  bed. 

Can  you  find  any  babies  throughout  the  Brit- 
ish Isles  to  match  mine? 


[87  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


October  20 
Since  last  I  wrote  you  we  have  had  a  very 
strenuous  time  in  the  Home;  the  entire  family 
has  been  down  with  measles.  Then  when  that 
was  over  and  the  children  well,  the  sewing  maid, 
whom  I  had  engaged  shortly  after  my  arrival, 
gave  notice,  shook  the  dust  from  her  feet,  and  I 
was  left  single-handed.  It  took  the  whole  of  my 
time  to  keep  these  forty-odd  infants  fed,  clothed, 
and  washed,  and  I  had  no  leisure  to  write  to  you 
even  at  "scattered  times."  It  seemed  to  me  that 
the  appetites  of  these  enfants  terribles  grew  ab- 
normally, that  their  clothes  rent  asunder  with 
lightning-like  rapidity,  and  that  they  fell  into 
mud  heaps  with  even  greater  facility  than  usual. 
It  was  sometimes  a  delicate  problem  to  decide 
which  of  many  pressing  duties  had  the  prior 
claim.  Whether  to  try  and  feed  the  hungry  (the 
kitchen  range  having  sprung  a  leak),  to  start  to 
repair  two  hundred  odd  garments  (the  weekly 
[88  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

mend),  or  to  resuscitate  one  of  the  babies  (just 
rescued  from  the  reservoir).  At  such  times  I 
would  wonder  if  I  were  somewhere  near  attain- 
ing to  that  state  of  experience  when  I  should  be 
able  to  appreciate  your  alluring  phrase,  "the 
fun  of  mothering  an  orphanage.'* 

I  must  begin  and  tell  you  now  about  the  chil- 
dren we  have  received  since  my  last  letter.  Mike, 
aged  eight,  came  to  us  from  St.  Barbe  Hospital, 
as  he  had  no  home  to  which  he  could  return.  In- 
cidentally it  takes  the  entire  staff  to  keep  this 
boy  moderately  tidy,  for  he  and  his  garments 
have  an  unfortunate  inclination  to  part  asunder, 
and  we  are  kept  in  constant  apprehension  for 
the  credit  of  the  Orphanage.  But  Mike,  whether 
with  his  clothes  or  without,  always  turns  up 
smiling  and  on  excellent  terms  with  himself,  en- 
tirely regardless  of  the  mental  torture  we  endure 
as  he  comes  into  view.  Indeed,  the  wider  apart 
are  his  garments,  the  broader  is  his  smile.  He 
weeps  quietly  each  night  as  we  wash  him,  for 
[89] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


that  is  a  work  of  supererogation  for  which  he  has 
at  present  no  use. 

Deborah  and  her  brother  Gabriel  were  here 
when  I  came.  Their  ages  are  eleven  and  five,  and 
they  come  from  the  far  north.  Deborah  was  in 
the  Mission  Hospital  at  Iron  Bound  Islands  for 
some  time  as  the  result  of  a  burning  accident. 
While  trying  to  lift  a  pan  of  dog-food  from  the 
stove  she  upset  the  scalding  contents  over  her 
legs.  Her  elder  brother  had  to  drive  her  eighteen 
miles  on  a  komatik  to  the  hospital,  and  the  poor 
child  must  have  suffered  greatly.  Gabriel  is  a 
very  naughty,  but  equally  lovable  child.  He  is 
never  out  of  mischief,  but  he  is  always  very 
penitent  for  his  misdeeds  —  afterwards!  His 
bent  is  towards  theology,  and  he  speaks  with  the 
authority  of  an  ancient  divine  on  all  matters 
pertaining  thereto,  and  with  an  air  of  finality 
which  brooks  no  argument.  When  some  one  was 
being  given  the  priority  in  point  of  age  over  me, 
he  was  heard  to  indignantly  exclaim  that  "Jesus 
[  00  J 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

and  Teacher  are  the  oldest  people  in  the  world." 
He  is  no  advocate  for  the  equality  of  the  sexes, 
and  closes  all  discussion  on  equal  rights  by  ex- 
plaining that  *'God  made  the  boys  and  Jesus 
the  girls." 

Our  fast-coming  winter  is  sending  its  harbin- 
gers, seen  and  unseen,  into  our  harbour.  Chief 
among  these  one  notices  the  assertiveness  of  the 
dogs.  All  through  the  summer  they  sHnk  pariah- 
like about  the  place,  eating  whatever  they  can 
pick  up,  and  seeking  to  keep  their  miserable  ex- 
istence as  much  in  the  background  as  possible. 
Now  the  winter  is  approaching,  and  it  is  "their 
httle  day."  Mrs.  Uncle  Life  can  testify  to  the 
fact  that  they  are  not  wholly  suppressed  when 
it  is  not  "their  little  day."  Last  summer  she 
found  no  less  important  a  personage  than  the 
leader  of  the  team  in  her  bed.  Her  newly  baked 
"loaf"  was  lying  on  the  pantry  shelf  before  the 
open  window.  Whiskey  (this  place  is  strictly 
prohibition,  but  every  team  boasts  its  "Whis- 
[91  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


key")  leaped  in,  made  a  satisfying  banquet  oflF 
her  bread,  and  then  forced  open  the  door  into 
her  bedroom  adjoining  the  pantry.  He  found  it  a 
singularly  barren  field  for  adventure,  but  after 


his  unaccustomed  hearty  meal  the  bed  looked 
tempting.  He  was  found  there  two  hours  later 
placidly  asleep. 

The  children  are  looking  forward  to  Christ- 
mas and  are  already  writing  letters  to  Santa 
Claus,  which  are  handed  to  me  with  great  se- 
crecy to  mail  to  him.  I  once  watched  the  httle 
[921. 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

ones  playing  at  Christmas  with  an  old  stump  of 
a  bush  to  which  they  attached  twigs  as  gifts  and 
gravely  distributed  them  to  one  another.  When 
I  saw  one  mite  handing  a  dead  twig  to  a  smaller 
edition  of  himself,  and  announcing  in  a  lordly 
fashion  that  it  was  a  piano,  I  realized  what 
Father  Christmas  was  expected  to  be  able  to 
produce. 


[  93 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


November  1 
My  world  is  transformed  into  fairyland.  Light 
snow  has  fallen  during  the  night,  and  every 
"starigan,"  every  patch  of  "tuckamore"  is 
"decked  in  sparkling  raiment  white."  As  I  was 
dressing  I  looked  out  of  my  window,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  saw  a  dog  team  and  komatik 
passing. 

The  day  was  full  of  adventure.  For  the  chil- 
dren the  snow  meant  only  rejoicing;  but  as  the 
highway  was  as  shppery  as  glass,  and  the  older 
folk  had  not  yet  got  their  "winter  legs,"  there 
were  many  minor  casualties.  Mrs.  Uncle  Life, 
aged  seventy  and  small  and  spherical,  solved  the 
problem  of  the  hills  by  sitting  down  and  shding. 
She  commended  the  method  to  me,  saying  that 
it  served  very  well  on  week  days,  but  was  lam- 
entably detrimental  to  her  Sunday  best. 

Ananias  is  developing  fast  and  bids  fair  to 
rival  Topsy.  He  has  a  mania  for  eating  anything 
[94] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


and  everything,  and  what  he  cannot  eat,  he  de- 
stroys. Within  the  past  few  weeks  he  has  swal- 
lowed the  arm  of  his  Teddy  bear,  half  a  cake  of 


i^^i 


A*-^ 
^X^ 


soap,  and  a  tube  of  tooth-paste.  He  has  also  bit- 
ten through  two  new  hot-water  bottles.  During 
the  short  time  he  has  been  here  he  has  broken 
more  windows  than  any  other  child  in  the  Home. 
[95  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


If  he  thinks  pohteness  will  save  the  day,  he 
says  in  the  sweetest  way  possible,  "Excuse  me. 
Teacher,  for  doing  it";  but  if  he  sees  by  my  face 
that  retribution  is  swift  and  sure,  he  says  in  the 
most  pathetic  of  tones,  "Teacher,  I  have  a 
pain." 

I  must  make  you  acquainted  with  our 
"Yoho."  Every  well-regulated  fishing  village 
has  one,  but  we  have  to  thank  our  neighbour, 
the  Eskimo,  for  the  picturesque  name.  In  our 
more  prosaic  parlance  it  is  plain  "ghost."  Many 
years  ago  when  the  Mission  was  in  need  of  a 
building  in  which  to  accommodate  some  of  its 
workers,  it  purchased  a  house  belonging  to  a 
local  trader  by  the  name  of  Isaac  Spouseworthy. 
This  made  an  admirable  Guest  House;  but  it  has 
since  fallen  into  disuse  for  its  original  purpose, 
and  is  being  employed  as  a  temporary  repository 
for  the  clothing  sent  for  the  poor,  till  the  fine  new 
storehouse  shall  have  been  built.  This  old  Guest 
House  has  been  selected  by  our  local  apparition 
f  90  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

as  a  place  of  visitation.  It  is  affirmed,  on  the 
incontrovertible  testimony  of  the  Prophet  and 
no  inconsiderable  following,  that  the  spirit  re- 
turns of  an  evening  to  the  old  house  he  built 
forty  years  ago,  to  wander  through  the  familiar 
rooms.  The  villagers  see  lights  there  nightly;  and 
though  all  our  investigation  has  failed  to  reveal 
any  presence  (barring  the  rats),  bodily  or  other- 
wise, the  bravest  of  them  would  hesitate  many  a 
long  minute  before  he  would  enter  the  haunted 
spot  after  nightfall.  Rumour  has  it  that  the 
Guest  House  is  built  on  the  site  of  an  old  French 
cemetery.  Our  "irrepressible  Ike"  therefore 
cannot  lack  for  society,  though  how  congenial  it 
is  cannot  be  determined.  Judging  from  the  rec- 
ords of  the  ceaseless  rows  between  the  French 
and  English  on  Le  Petit  Nord,  there  must  be 
some  lively  nights  in  ghostland. 

The  doctor  suggested  that  if  a  burglar  wished 
to  steal  the  clothing,  this  spook  would  be  his 
most  effective  accomplice,  but  such  tortuous 
[97  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


psychology  has  failed  to  satisfy  the  fishermen. 
To  them  we  seem  callous  souls,  to  whom  the 
spirit  world  is  alien.  This  ghostly  encroachment 
on  our  erstwhile  quiet  domain  has  had  more 
than  one  inconvenient  result.  The  Mission  is 
very  short  of  houses  for  its  workmen,  and  was 
planning  to  rebuild  and  put  in  order  a  part  of 
this  now  haunted  domicile  for  one  family.  The 
man  for  whom  it  was  destined  now  refuses  to 
live  there,  as  his  children  have  vetoed  the  idea. 
In  this  land  the  word  of  the  rising  generation  is 
law,  and  this  refusal  is  therefore  final. 

The  children  of  this  North  Country  are  given 
what  they  wish  and  when  and  how.  Naturally 
the  results  of  such  a  policy  are  serious.  There  are 
many  cases  of  hopeless  cripples  about  here  who 
refused  to  go  to  hospital  for  treatment  when 
their  trouble  was  so  slight  that  it  could  have 
been  rectified.  Now  the  children  must  look  for- 
ward to  a  life  of  disability  through  their  par- 
ents' short-sightedness.  But  when  I  think  of 
[98] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

what  it  means  to  these  poor  women  to  have  per- 
haps ten  children  to  care  for,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  work  of  the  house  and  garden  on  their  shoul- 
ders, I  cannot  wonder  that  their  motto  is  "peace 
at  any  price." 

Spirits  might  be  called  the  outstanding  fea- 
ture of  our  harbour,  for  the  Piquenais  rocks  at 
the  very  entrance  are  the  abode  of  another  fa- 
miliar revenant.  The  Prophet  assures  me  that 
thirty  years  ago  a  vessel  and  crew  were  wrecked 
there,  and  on  every  succeeding  stormy  evening 
since  that  day,  the  captain,  with  creditable  per- 
severance, waves  his  light  on  that  wind-  and 
surf-swept  rock.  In  this  instance  the  prophetical 
authority  is  in  dispute,  for  there  are  those  who 
assert  that  the  light  is  shown  by  fairies  to  toll 
boats  to  their  doom  on  the  foggy  point.  The 
more  scientifically  minded  explain  the  mysteri- 
ous light  as  a  defunct  animal  giving  out  gas.  It 
must  be  a  persistent  gas  which  can  retain  its 
eflBcacy  for  thirty  long  and  adventurous  years. 
[  99  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


In  the  course  of  these  researches  several  in- 
teresting points  of  natural  history  and  science 
have  been  elucidated.  Doubtless  you  do  not 


know  that  all  cats  are  related  to  the  devil,  but 

you  can  readily  see  the  brimstone  in  their  fur  if 

you  have  the  temerity  to  rub  them  on  a  dusky 

[  100  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

evening.  Neither  has  it  come  to  your  attention 
that  under  no  consideration  must  you  allow  the 
water  in  which  potatoes  have  been  washed  to 
run  over  your  hands.  In  the  latter  event,  warts 
innumerable  will  result. 

Our  cook  has  just  come  in  with  the  news  that 
supper  is  not  to  be  forthcoming.  'Senath  was 
left  in  charge  while  Tryphena  went  on  an  errand 
for  me.  Left-over  salad  was  to  have  formed  the 
basis  of  the  evening  meal,  but  the  said  basis  has 
now  disintegrated,  'Senath  having  placed  the 
dish  in  a  superheated  oven.  The  nature  of  the 
resultant  object  is  indeterminate,  but  uneat- 
able. I  solace  myself  that  sanctified  starva- 
tion will  be  beneficial  to  my  "fine  and  hearty" 
figure. 

We  have  suffered  again  with  the  dogs.  One  of 
the  children's  birthdays  fell  on  Saturday,  and 
we  decided  to  give  the  whole  "crew"  ice-cream 
to  fittingly  celebrate  the  event.  It  was  made  in 
good  time  and  put  out  to  keep  cool  in  what  we 
f  101  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


took  to  be  a  safe  spot.  The  party  preceding  the 
"pwce  de  resistance  was  in  full  swing  when  an 
ominous  disturbance  was  detected  from  the  di- 
rection of  the  woodshed.  Investigation  revealed 
two  angry  dogs  alternately  snarling  at  each 
other  and  devouring  the  last  lick  of  the  treat. 
The  catholicity  of  canine  taste  was  no  solace  to 
the  aggrieved  assembly. 

t  The  children  have  lately  been  making  excur- 
sions into  the  theological  field.  The  latest  prob- 
lem brought  to  me  for  settlement  was,  "Does 
God  hve  in  the  Methodist  Church?"  Truly  a 
two-horned  dilemma.  If  I  said  "yes**  the  an- 
thropomorphic teaching  was  undoubted;  while 
if  the  answer  were  in  the  negative  I  should  be 
guilty  of  fostering  the  abominable  denomina- 
tional spirit  which  ruins  this  land.  My  reply 
must  have  been  unconvincing,  for  I  overheard 
the  children  later  deciding,  the  Methodist 
Church  having  been  barred  as  a  place  of  resi- 
dence, that  the  attic  was  the  only  remaining 
[  102  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

possibility.  It  is  the  one  spot  in  the  Home  un- 
visited  by  them,  and  therefore  "unseen." 

Unseemly  altercations  have  summoned  me 
to  the  kitchen,  and  I  return  to  close  this  over- 
long  chronicle.  I  was  met  there  by  Tryphena,  a 
large  sheet  in  her  hands,  and  an  accusing  expres- 
sion on  her  face  which  stamped  her  as  a  family 
connection  of  the  Prophet's. 

*'It's  not  my  fault,  miss,"  she  began. 

*'No,  Tryphena.''  Well,  whose  is  it,  and  what 
is  it.?" 

"Look  at  that  sheet,  miss,  a  new  one.  'Senath 
was  ironing,  and  had  folded  it  just  ready  to  put 
away.  Then  she  suddenly  wants  a  drink,  so  she 
goes  off  leaving  the  iron  in  the  middle  of  the 
sheet.  Half  an  hour  later  she  remembers.  When 
she  got  back,  of  course  the  iron  had  burnt  its 
way  straight  through  all  the  layers.'* 

Aside  from  destruction,  in  what  direction 
would  you  say  that  'Senath's  forte  did  lie? 


103 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


November  17 
I  HAVE  received  your  letter  with  its  pointed  re- 
marks about  the  long  delays  of  the  mail-carrier. 
I  consider  them  both  unnecessary  and  unkind. 
But  as  David  would  say,  "I  am  going  to  be  good 
all  the  time  now." 

We  have  this  moment  returned  from  church, 
to  which  the  children  love  to  go;  it  is  the  great 
excitement  of  the  week.  They  sit  very  quietly, 
except  Topsy,  but  how  much  they  understand  I 
cannot  say.  The  people  sing  with  deliberation, 
each  syllable  being  made  to  do  duty  for  three, 
to  prolong  the  enjoyment  —  or  the  agony  —  ac- 
cording as  your  musical  talent  decides.  Fre- 
quently there  is  no  one  to  play  the  instrument, 
and  the  hymns  are  started  several  times,  until 
something  resembling  the  right  pitch  is  struck. 
Sometimes  a  six-line  hymn  will  be  started  to  a 
common  metre  tune,  and  all  goes  swimmingly 
until  the  inevitable  crash  at  the  end  of  the 
[  lOi  J 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

fourth  line.  But  nothing  daunted,  we  try  and 
try  again.  I  have  suppHed  our  smiling-faced 
cherubs  with  hymn  books  in  order  that 

"Their  voices  may  in  tune  be  found 
Like  David's  harp  of  solemn  sound  " 

—  excuse  the  adaptation.  This  morning  the  serv- 
ice was  particularly  dreary.  Hymn  after  hymn 
started  to  end  in  conspicuous  failure,  followed 
by  an  interminable  discourse  on  the  sufferings  of 
the  damned.  But  we  ended  cheerfully  by  war- 
bling forth  the  joys  of  heaven  — 

"Where  congregations  ne'er  break  up 
And  Sabbaths  never  end!" 

Last  week  we  had  a  thrilling  event;  one  of  the 
girls  formerly  in  this  Home  was  married,  and  we 
all  went  to  the  wedding,  even  the  little  tots  who 
are  too  young  for  regular  services.  They  after- 
wards told  me  they  would  hke  to  go  on  Sundays, 
so  I  imagine  they  think  the  marriage  ceremony  a 
regular  item  of  Divine  worship.  Alas!  I  almost 
disgraced  myself  when  the  clergyman  solemnly 
[  105  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


announced  to  the  intending  bride  and  bride- 
groom that  the  holy  estate  of  matrimony  had 
been  "ordained  of  God  for  the  persecution  of 
children  " ! 

How  you  would  have  laughed  to  see  me  the 
other  night.  The  steamer  arrived  at  midnight, 
and  as  we  were  expecting  some  children  I  went 
down  to  meet  them.  There  were  three  little  boys, 
Esau,  Joseph,  and  Nathan,  eight,  six,  and  four 
years  of  age.  I  bore  them  in  triumph  to  the  bath- 
room, feeling  that  even  at  that  late  hour  cleanli- 
ness should  be  compulsory.  But  I  soon  desisted 
from  my  purpose  and  as  quickly  as  possible 
bundled  the  dirty  children  into  my  neat,  snowy 
beds!  They  kicked,  they  fought,  they  bit,  they 
yelled  and  they  swore!  All  my  sleeping  inno- 
cents awoke  at  the  noise  and  added  their  voices 
to  the  confusion.  I  momentarily  expected  an  in- 
rush of  neighbours,  and  a  summons  the  follow- 
ing day  for  cruelty  to  children. 
[  106  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Uriah  has  come  to  inform  me  that  he  cannot 
"cleave  the  spHts,"  as  his  "stomach  has  cap- 
sized." I  felt  it  incumbent  to  administer  a  dose 
of  castor  oil,  thinking  that  might  be  sufficient 
punishment  for  what  I  had  reason  to  believe  was 
only  a  dodge  to  escape  work.  It  was  hard  for  me 
to  give  the  oil,  but  harder  still  to  have  the  boy 
look  up  after  it  with  a  quite  cherubic  smile,  and 
ask  if  it  were  the  same  oil  as  Elisha  gave  the 
widow  woman! 

Whatever  can  survive  in  this  land  of  difficul- 
ties survives  with  a  zeal  and  vitahty  which  only 
proves  the  strength  of  the  obstacles  overcome. 
The  flies,  the  mosquitoes,  and  the  rats  are 
proofs.  We  have  none  of  your  meek  little  wharf 
rats  here.  Ours  are  brazen  imps,  sleek  and 
shameless,  undaunted  by  cats  or  men.  Their 
footmarks  are  as  big  as  those  of  young  puppies 
(withal  not  too  well-fed  puppies),  and  their  raids 
on  man  and  beast  alike  ally  them  with  the  horde 
Pandora  loosed.  Each  day  the  toll  mounts.  One 
[  107] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


morning  Miss  Perrin,  the  head  nurse,  awakened 
to  find  one  of  her  prize  North  Labrador  boots 
gnawed  to  the  rim.  All  that  remained  to  tell  the 


[  108  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

tale  was  the  bright  tape  by  which  it  was  hung 
up,  and  the  skin  groove  through  which  the  tape 
threads. 

On  the  next  occasion  of  their  public  ap- 
pearance the  night  nurse  was  summoned  by 
agonized  shrieks  to  the  children's  ward.  A  large 
rodent  had  climbed  upon  Ishimay's  bed  and  bit- 
ten her.  There  were  the  marks  of  his  teeth  in  her 
hand,  and  the  blood  was  dripping.  Nor  do  they 
limit  their  depredations  to  the  hospital.  The 
barn  man  turned  over  a  bale  of  hay  last  week 
and  disclosed  no  less  than  twenty-seven  rats 
young  and  old,  fat  and  lean,  though  chiefly  fat. 
I  rejoice  to  record  that  this  galaxy  at  least  has 
departed  Purgatory-wards.  The  dentist  left  a 
whole  bag  of  clean  linen  on  the  floor  of  his  bed- 
room. The  morning  following  he  found  that  the 
raiders  had  eaten  their  way  through  the  sack, 
cutting  a  series  of  neat  round  holes  in  each 
folded  garment  as  they  progressed.  The  scufl3ing 
and  the  squealing  and  the  scraping  and  the 
[  109  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


gnawing  and  the  scratching  of  rats  in  the  walls 
and  cupboards  are  worse  than  any  phalanx  of 
*'Yohos'*  ever  summoned  from  spookland!  Oh! 
Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  why  tarry  so  long ! 


[  110] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


December  14 
The  last  boat  of  the  season  has  come  and  gone 
and  now  we  settle  down  to  the  real  life  of  the 
winter.  Plans  innumerable  are  under  way  for 
winter  activities,  and  the  children  are  on  tiptoe 
over  the  prospect  of  approaching  Christmastide. 
Their  jubilations  fill  the  house,  and  writing  is 
even  more  difficult  than  usual. 

For  days  before  the  last  steamer  finally 
reached  us  there  were  speculations  as  to  her 
coming.  Rumour,  a  healthy  customer  in  these 
parts,  three  times  had  it  that  she  had  gone  back, 
having  given  up  the  unequal  contest  with  the 
ice.  As  all  our  Christmas  mail  was  aboard  her, 
the  atmosphere  was  tense.  Then  came  the  news 
from  Croque  that  she  was  there,  busily  unload- 
ing freight.  Six  hours  later  her  smoke  was 
sighted,  and  from  the  yells  my  bairns  set  up,  you 
would  have  thought  that  the  mythical  sea  ser- 
pent was  entering  port.  She  butted  her  way  into 
[  111  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


the  standing  harbour  ice  as  far  as  she  could  get, 
and  promptly  began  discharging  cargo.  Teams 
of  dogs  sprang  up  seemingly  out  of  the  snow- 
covered  earth,  and  in  a  mere  twinkling  our 
frozen  and  silent  harbour  was  an  arena  of  activ- 
ity. The  freight  is  dumped  on  the  ice  over  the 
ship's  side  with  the  big  winch,  and  each  man 
must  hunt  for  his  own  as  it  descends.  Some  of 
the  goods  are  dropped  with  such  a  thud  that  the 
packages  "burst  abroad."  This  is  all  very  well  if 
the  contents  are  of  a  solid  and  resisting  nature; 
but  if  butter,  or  beans,  or  such  like  receive  the 
shock,  most  regrettable  results  ensue. 

During  the  hours  of  waiting  here  she  froze 
solidly  into  the  ice,  and  had  to  be  blasted  out 
before  she  could  commence  her  journey  to  the 
southward.  She  has  taken  the  mails  with  her, 
and  this  letter  must  come  to  you  by  dog  team  — 
your  first  by  that  method. 

In  the  early  part  of  this  summer  three  little 
orphan  girls  came  to  us  from  Mistaken  Cove, 
f  112  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Their  names  are  Carmen,  Selina,  and  Rachel, 
and  their  ages,  ten,  seven,  and  five.  Their  father 
has  been  dead  for  some  years,  and  the  mother 
recently  died  of  tuberculosis.  They  did  look  such 
a  pathetic  little  trio  when  they  first  arrived.  I 
went  down  to  the  wharf  to  meet  them,  and  three 
quaint  little  figures  stepped  from  the  hospital 
boat,  with  dresses  almost  to  their  feet.  Carmen 
held  the  hands  of  her  two  sisters,  and  greeted  me 
with  "Are  you  the  woman  wot's  going  to  look 
after  we?  "  I  assured  her  that  I  hoped  to  perform 
that  function  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  then 
she  confided  to  me  that  she  had  brought  with 
her  a  box  containing  her  mother's  dresses  and 
her  mother's  hair.  I  fancy  the  responsibility  of 
the  entire  household  must  have  rested  on  Car- 
men's tiny  shoulders;  she  is  hke  a  little  old 
woman,  and  even  her  voice  is  care-worn.  I 
hunted  up  some  dolls  for  the  two  younger  kid- 
dies, but  had  not  the  courage  to  offer  one  to 
their  elder  sister.  She  evidently  felt  that  dolls 
[  113  J 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


were  altogether  too  precious  for  common  use, 
and  carefully  explained  to  her  charges  that  they 
were  only  for  Sundays !  When  I  next  went  to  the 
playroom  it  was  to  find  the  three  little  sisters 
sitting  solemnly  in  a  row  on  the  locker  with  their 
dolls  safely  packed  away  beneath.  I  persuaded 
them  that  dolls  were  not  too  good  for  "human 
nature's  daily  food,"  and  since  then  they  have 
been  supremely  happy  with  their  babies. 

Carmen  is  so  devoted  to  little  Rachel  that  she 
cannot  bear  the  thought  of  her  being  in  trouble. 
Rachel  is  very  human,  and  in  the  brief  time  she 
has  been  with  us  has  had  many  falls  from  the 
paths  of  rectitude. 

One  day  shortly  after  their  arrival  Rachel  had 
been  naughty,  and  I  had  taken  her  upstairs  to 
explain  to  her  the  enormity  of  her  offence.  Car- 
men standing  meanwhile  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs  wringing  her  hands.  When  Rachel  reap- 
peared and  announced  that  she  had  not  even 
been  punished,  Carmen  was  seen  to  give  her  a 
[  114  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

good  slap  on  her  own  account,  although  evi- 
dently well  pleased  that  no  one  else  had  dared  to 
touch  her  child.  Carmen  is  extremely  rehgious, 
and  her  prayers  at  night  are  lengthy  and  devout. 
She  starts  off  with  the  Lord's  Prayer,  the  Apos- 
tles* Creed;  several  collects  follow,  and  she  con- 
cludes with  a  "Hail  Mary!" 

You  have  already  made  the  acquaintance  of 
Billy  the  Ox,  the  now  dear  departed,  who  con- 
stitutes our  winter's  frozen  meat  supply.  Our 
allotted  portion  of  him  is  hung  in  the  balcony 
outside  my  window.  Being  on  the  second  floor 
it  was  thought  to  be  sanctuary  from  marauders. 
Last  night  I  was  awakened  by  an  uneasy  f eehng 
of  a  presence  entering  my  room.  Starting  up,  I 
made  out  in  the  moonlight  the  great  tawny 
form  of  one  of  our  biggest  dogs.  He  was  in  the 
balcony  making  so  far  futile  leaps  to  secure  a  sec- 
tion of  Billy.  My  shout  discouraged  him,  and  he 
jumped  off  the  roof  to  the  snow  beneath.  He  had 
managed  to  scale  the  side  of  the  house  —  but 
\  115  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


how?  For  some  time  I  was  at  a  loss  to  discover, 
till  I  remembered  a  ladder  which  had  been 
placed  perpendicularly  against  the  wall  on  the 
other  side.  One  of  the  double  windows  had 
broken  loose  in  a  recent  storm  of  wind,  and  the 
barn  man  had  had  to  go  up  and  mend  it.  True  to 
type  he  had  left  the  ladder  in  statu  quo.  Up  mas- 
ter dog  had  climbed  straight  into  the  air,  along 
the  slippery  rungs  of  the  ladder.  When  he 
reached  the  level  of  the  tempting  odour,  he  had 
ahghted  on  the  balcony  roof.  Then,  pursuing 
the  odour  to  its  lair,  he  had  discovered  Billy, 
and  me! 

At  breakfast  I  told  my  adventurette,  and  the 
story  was  instantly  capped  with  others.  Only 
one  shall  you  have.  The  doctor  was  away  on 
a  travel  last  winter,  and  late  one  blustersome 
night  came  to  a  little  village.  He  happened  to 
have  a  very  beautiful  leader  of  which  he  was 
inordinately  careful,  so  he  asked  his  host  for  the 
night  if  he  had  a  shed  into  which  he  could  put 
f  116] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


Spider  out  of  the  weather.  "Why,  to  be  sure, 
just  at  the  left  of  the  door."  It  was  dark  and 
blowing,  and  the  doctor  went  outside  and  thrust 
the  beastie  into  the  only  building  in  sight.  After 
breakfast  he  went  with  his  host  to  get  the  dogs. 


/ 


/ 


When  he  started  to  open  the  door  of  the  shelter 
in  which  Spider  was  incarcerated,  the  fisherman 
burst  out  in  dismay,  "You  never  put  him  in 
there.f^  That's  where  I  keeps  my  only  sheep." 
At  that  second  the  dog  appeared,  a  spherical 
and  satisfied  specimen.  He  had  taken  the  stran- 
ger in  —  completely. 

f  117  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


The  cold  is  intense,  and  to  combat  it  in  these 
buildings  of  green  lumber  is  a  task  worthy  of 
Hercules.  We  make  futile  attempts  to  keep  the 
pipes  from  freezing;  but  the  north  wind  has  a 
new  trump  each  night.  He  squeezes  in  through 
every  chink  and  cranny,  and  once  inside  the 
house  goes  whistling  mahgnantly  through  the 
chilly  rooms  and  corridors.  We  keep  an  oil  stove 
burning  in  our  bathroom  at  night  with  a  kettle 
of  water  on  it  ready  for  our  morning  ablutions. 
To-day,  when  I  went  in  to  dress  —  one  does  not 
dress  in  one's  bedroom,  but  waits  in  bed  till  the 
bathroom  door's  warning  slam  informs  that  the 
coast  is  dear  —  there  was  the  stove  still  mer- 
rily burning,  and  there  was  the  kettle  of  water 

on  it FROZEN. 

Next  month  there  is  to  be  a  sale  in  Nameless 
Cove,  twelve  miles  to  the  westward  of  us.  The 
doctor  has  asked  me  to  attend.  I  accepted  de- 
lightedly, as  twenty-four  hours  free  from  fear  of 
rats  and  frozen  pipes  draws  me  like  a  magnet. 
I  118  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Moreover,  who  would  n't  be  on  edge  if  it  were 
one's  first  dog  drive ! 

I  found  Gabriel  crying  bitterly  in  bed  the 
other  night  because  he  had  in  a  fit  of  mischief 
thrown  a  stone  at  the  Northern  hghts,  which  is 
regarded  as  an  act  of  impiety  by  the  Eskimo 
people.  It  was  some  time  before  I  could  pacify 
the  child,  or  get  him  to  believe  that  no  dire 
results  would  follow  his  dreadful  deed.  But  at 
length  when  "comforting  time"  was  come  for 
him,  he  consoled  himself  by  supposing  that 
Teacher  must  be  "stronger  than  the  devil." 


[  119 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


December  27 
I  CERTAINLY  was  never  born  to  be  a  teacher  and 

it  is  something  to  discover  one's  limitations. 
For  several  Sundays  now  I  have  been  labour- 
ing to  instruct  our  little  ones  in  the  story  of  the 
birth  of  Jesus,  and  I  have  repeated  the  details 
again  and  again  in  order  to  impress  them  upon 
their  wandering  minds.  Last  Sunday  I  ques- 
tioned them,  and  finally  asked  triumphantly, 
"Well,  David,  who  was  the  Babe  in  the  man- 
ger?" With  a  wild  look  round  the  room  for  in- 
spiration, David  enunciated  with  swelling  pride, 
"Beulah,  Teacher." 

We  had  a  lovely  time  on  Christmas.  The 
night  before  the  children  hung  up  their  stock- 
ings, but  it  was  midnight  before  I  could  get 
round  to  fill  them,  they  were  so  excited  and 
wakeful.  I  "hied  me  softly  to  my  stilly  couch," 
and  was  just  dropping  off  into  delicious  slumber 
when  at  1  a.m.  the  strains  of  musical  instru- 
ments (which  you  had  sent)  were  heard  below. 
I  120  j 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Then  I  appreciated  to  the  full  the  sentiment  of 

that  poet  who  sang: 

"Were  children  silent,  we  should  half  believe 
That  joy  were  dead,  its  lamp  would  burn  so  low." 

Later  in  the  day  we  had  our  Christmas  tree, 
when  Topsy  was  overjoyed  at  receiving  her  first 
doll.  There  is  something  very  sweet  about  the 
child  in  spite  of  all  her  wilful  ways,  and  she  is  a 
real  Httle  mother  to  her  doll. 

We  had  a  great  dinner,  as  you  may  imagine.  I 
overheard  some  of  the  little  boys  teasing  Solo- 
mon, who  is  only  three,  to  see  if  he  would  not 
forgo  some  particular  choice  morsel  upon  his 
plate,  to  which  an  emphatic  "no"  was  always 
returned.  Then  by  varying  gradations  of  impor- 
tance came  the  question,  would  he  give  it  to 
Teacher?  The  answer  not  being  considered  satis- 
factory, Gabriel  felt  that  the  time  had  come  for 
the  supreme  test.  Would  Solomon  give  it  to  God 
and  the  angels?  The  reply  left  so  much  to  be 
desired  that  it  is  better  unrecorded. 
[  121  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


In  our  harbour  lives  a  blind  Frenchman, 
FrauQois  Detier  by  name.  He  came  here  in  his 
youth  to  escape  conscription.  The  fisher  people 
have  travelled  a  long  road  since  the  old  feuds 
which  scarred  the  early  history  of  Le  Petit  Nord, 
and  Frangois  is  a  much-loved  member  of  the 
community.  Since  the  oncoming  of  the  inoper- 
able tumour,  which  little  by  little  has  deprived 
him  of  his  sight,  the  neighbours  vie  with  each 
other  by  helping  him.  One  day  a  load  of  wood 
will  find  its  way  to  his  door.  The  next  a  few 
fresh  "turr,"  a  very  "fishy"  sea  auk,  are  left 
ever  so  quietly  inside  his  woodshed  —  and  so 
it  goes.  It  is  a  constant  marvel  to  me  that 
these  people,  who  live  so  perilously  near  the 
margin  of  want,  are  always  so  eager  to  share 
up.  Frangois  is  sitting  in  our  cellar  as  I  write 
pulling  nails  from  old  boxes  with  my  new  pat- 
ent nail-drawer.  A  moment  ago  I  could  not  re- 
sist the  temptation  of  putting  the  Marseillaise 
on  the  gramophone,  and  I  went  down  to  find 
[  122  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

him  with  tears  roHing  down  his  cheeks  as  he 

hummed, 

"Allons,  enfants  de  la  Patrie, 
Le  jour  de  gloire  est  arrive." 

We've  invented  a  new  job  for  him;  he  is  to 
"serve"  our  pipes  with  bandages.  This  means 
swathing  them  round  and  round,  and  finally  add- 
ing an  outer  covering  of  newspaper,  which  has  a 
much-vaunted  reputation  for  keeping  cold  out. 

Let  me  tell  you  the  latest  epic  of  the  hospital 
pipes.  Those  to  the  bathroom  run  through  the 
oflSce.  In  the  last  blizzard  they  burst.  The  fire 
in  the  fireplace  was  a  conflagration;  the  steam 
radiator  was  singing  a  credible  song;  and  as  the 
water  trickled  down  the  pipe  from  the  little  fis- 
sure, it  froze  solid  before  it  was  three  inches  on 
its  way! 

A  friend  sent  me  for  Christmas  a  charming 
little  poem.  One  verse  runs: 

"May  nothing  evil  cross  this  door, 
And  may  ill  fortune  never  pry 

f  123  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


About  these  windows ;  may  the  roar 
And  rains  go  by. 

"Strengthened  by  faith,  these  rafters  will 
Withstand  the  battering  of  the  storm; 
This  hearth,  though  all  the  world  grow  chill, 
Will  keep  us  warm." 

I  am  thinking  of  hanging  the  card  opposite  our 
pipes  as  a  reminder  of  the  "way  they  should 
go." 


124  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


January  15 
The  journey  to  Nameless  Cove  Fair  was  all  that 
I  had  hoped  for  and  a  little  more  thrown  in  to 
make  weight.  Clear  and  shining,  with  glittering 
white  snow  below  and  sparkling  blue  sky  above, 
the  day  promised  fair  in  spite  of  a  mercury 
standing  at  ten  below  zero,  and  a  number  of 
komatiks  from  the  Mission  started  merrily 
forth.  All  went  well,  and  we  reached  Nameless 
Cove  without  adventure,  but  at  sundown  the 
wind  rose.  When  we  left  the  sale  at  ten  o'clock 
to  return  to  the  house  where  I  was  to  spend  the 
night,  we  had  to  face  the  full  fury  of  a  living 
winter  gale.  I  "caught"  both  my  cheeks  on  the 
way,  or  in  common  parlance  I  froze  them.  All 
through  that  long  tug  we  were  cheered  by  the 
thought  of  a  large  jug  of  cream  which  we  had 
placed  on  the  stove  to  thaw  when  we  left  the 
house.  Do  you  fancy  that  cream  had  thawed? 
Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  fire  was  doing  its  best,  but 
(  125  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


old  Boreas  was  holding  our  feast  prisoner.  It  had 
not  even  begun  to  disintegrate  around  the  edges. 
We  cut  lumps  from  the  icy  mass,  dropped  them 
into  our  cocoa  (which  we  made  by  cooking  it  in- 
side the  stove  and  directly  on  top  of  the  coals), 
hastily  popped  the  mixture  into  our  mouths  be- 
fore it  should  have  a  chance  to  freeze  en  routes 
and  went  promptly  to  bed.  I  draw  a  veil  over 
that  night.  I  drew  everything  else  I  could  find 
over  me  in  the  course  of  it.  A  sadder  and  a  wiser 
and  a  chilher  woman  I  rose  the  morrow  morn. 
Another  member  of  the  staff,  who  had  slept  in 
an  adjoining  house,  froze  his  toe  in  bed. 

When  we  reached  home,  and  I  left  the  koma- 
tik  at  the  hospital  door,  I  made  out  'Senath 
dancing  in  an  agitatedly  aimless  fashion  on  our 
platform.  She  was  also  waving  her  arms  about. 
For  a  moment  it  crossed  my  mind  that  she  had 
lost  her  modicum  of  wits,  but  as  she  was  im- 
mediately joined  by  Tryphena,  I  gave  up  the 
theory  as  untenable,  and  continued  to  hasten  up 
[  126  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


the  hill  to  the  Home.  Our  boiler  had  sprung,  not 
one  but  many  leaks,  and  the  precious  hot  water 
destined  for  the  cleansing  of  forty  was  flooding 


the  already  spotless  kitchen  floor.  As  it  is  the 
middle  of  the  week  I  had  not  suspected  this  ca- 
lamity, Sunday  being  the  invariable  day  se- 
[  127  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


lected  for  all  burst  pipes,  special  rat  banquets, 
broken  noses,  toothaches,  skinned  shins,  and 
such  misadventures.  The  problem  now  present- 
ing itself  for  prompt  solution  is:  20°  below  zero, 
a  gale  blowing  from  the  northwest,  twoscore 
small,  unwashed  orphans,  and  a  burst  boiler! 


[  128  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


January  21 
The  oldest  inhabitants,  and  all  the  others  as 
well,  claim  that  this  is  the  most  remarkable  win- 
ter in  thirty  years.  Not  that  one  is  deceived.  I 
suspect  them  rather  of  making  excuses  for  the 
consistently  disconcerting  climate  of  Britain's 
oldest  colony. 

All  the  same,  literally  the  worst  storm  I  ever 
experienced  has  been  in  progress  for  the  last  two 
days.  It  began  in  the  morning  by  the  falling  of 
a  few  innocent  flakes.  Then  the  north  wind  de- 
cided to  take  a  hand.  All  night  and  all  day  and 
all  night  again  it  shrieked  around  the  house, 
driving  incredible  quantities  of  snow  before  it. 
Half  an  hour  after  it  began,  you  could  not  see 
two  yards  in  front  of  your  face.  The  man  who 
attends  to  the  hospital  heating-plant  had  to 
crawl  on  his  hands  and  knees  in  order  to  reach 
his  destination,  taking  exactly  one  hour  to  make 
the  distance  of  two  hundred  yards. 
[  129  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


At  this  institution  it  is  the  time-honoured 
custom  to  rise  at  five-thirty  each  morning, 
which  custom,  although  doubtless  good  for  our 
immortal  souls,  is  distinctly  trying  to  our  too 
painfully  mortal  flesh.  Added  to  which,  in  spite 
of  all  our  efforts,  our  pipes  are  frozen,  and 
in  this  country  the  ground  does  not  thaw  out 
completely  until  July  or  August,  when  we  are 
making  preparations  for  being  frozen  in  again. 
Think  of  what  this  means  for  a  household  of 
over  forty  when  every  drop  of  water  has  to  be 
hauled  in  barrels  by  our  boys,  and  the  super- 
intendent has  to  stand  over  them  to  compel 
them  to  bring  enough.  Cleanliness  at  such  a 
cost  must  surely  be  a  long  way  towards  godli- 
ness. I  can  now  appreciate  the  story  of  the 
chaplain  from  a  whaling  ship  who  is  said  to 
have  wandered  into  an  encampment  of  the  Es- 
kimos. He  told  the  people  of  heaven  with  all 
its  glories,  and  it  meant  nothing  to  these 
children  of  the  North;  they  were  not  interested 
[  130  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

in  his  story.  But  when  he  changed  his  theme 
and  spoke  of  hell,  with  its  everlasting  fires 
which    needed    no    replenishing,    they    cried. 


"Where  is  it?  Tell  us  that  we  may  go";  and  big 
and  little,  they  clambered  over  him,  eager  for 
details. 

By  morning  every  room  on  the  windward  side 

of  our  house  looked  like  the  inside  of  an  igloo. 

The  fine  drift  had  silted  in  through  each  most 

minute  cranny  and  crevice  —  even  though  we 

[  131] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


have  double  windows  all  over  the  building;  and 
on  the  night  in  question  we  had  decided  that 
sufficient  fresh  air  was  entering  in  spite  of  us 
to  permit  our  disobeying  our  self-imposed  anti- 
tuberculosis regulations.  The  wind  and  snow  are 
so  persistent  and  so  penetrating  that  the  merest 
slit  gives  them  entrance,  and  the  accumulations 
of  such  a  night  make  one  fancy  in  the  morning 
that  the  King  of  the  Golden  River  has  paid  an 
infuriated  visit  to  our  part  of  the  globe.  When  I 
went  into  the  babies'  dormitory  every  little  bed 
was  snowed  under,  and  only  the  children's  dark 
hair  contrasted  with  the  universal  whiteness. 

The  second  night  I  verily  thought  the  house 
would  come  about  our  ears.  The  gale  had  in- 
creased in  fury,  the  thermometer  stood  at  thirty 
below,  and  I  stayed  up  to  be  ready  for  emer- 
gencies. At  midnight,  thinking  one  room  must 
surely  be  blown  in,  I  carried  the  sleeping  babes 
into  another  wing  of  the  house.  If  for  any  reason 
we  had  had  to  leave  the  building  that  night, 
[  132  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

none  of  us  could  have  lived  to  reach  a  place  of 
safety.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  us  the  follow- 
ing morning.  The  snow  had  drifted  in  so  that  in 
places  it  was  over  six  feet  high.  I  ventured  out 
and  found  that  every  exit  but  one  from  the 
Home  was  snowed  up.  We  had  therefore  to  dig 
ourselves  out  of  the  woodshed  door  and  into 
the  others  from  the  outside.  You  make  a  dab 
with  a  shovel  in  the  direction  where  you  think 
you  last  saw  the  desired  door  before  the  storm, 
and  trust  the  fates  for  results.  Part  of  our  roof 
has  blown  off  and  our  chimney  is  in  a  tottering 
condition. 

The  greatest  menace  was  the  telegraph  wires. 
The  drifts  in  places  were  so  huge  that  as  one 
walked  along,  the  wires  were  liable  to  trip  one 
up.  The  doctor  has  just  taken  a  picture  of  the 
dog  team  being  fed  from  the  third-story  window 
of  the  hospital.  They  are  clustered  on  the  snow 
just  outside  and  on  a  level  with  the  bottom  of 
the  window.  Some  of  the  fishermen  in  their  tiny 
f  133  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


cottages  had  to  be  dug  out  by  kindly  neigh- 
bours, as  they  were  completely  snowed  under! 

The  storm  will  greatly  delay  travelling  and  it 
may  be  almost  spring  before  this  reaches  you.  It 
may  interest  you  to  know  how  my  letters  come 
to  you  in  the  winter-time,  and  then  perhaps  you 
will  not  wonder  so  much  at  the  delays.  The  mail 
is  carried  across  country  to  Mistaken  Cove,  on 
the  west  coast,  and  then  by  eight  relays  of  cou- 
riers with  their  dog  teams  to  Deerlake  where  the 
railway  touches.  It  is  a  slow  method  of  progress, 
and  there  are  countless  delays  owing  to  the  fre- 
quent blizzards.  Often  the  mail  men  fail  to  make 
connections,  and  the  letters  may  lie  a  week  or 
a  fortnight  at  some  outlandish  station.  At  one 
place  the  postmaster  cannot  even  read,  and  the 
letters  have  to  be  marked  with  crosses  at  the 
previous  stopping-places,  to  indicate  the  direc- 
tion of  their  destination.  Another  postmaster, 
well  known  for  his  dishonesty,  failed  to  get  re- 
moved by  the  authorities  because  he  was  the 
[  134  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

only  man  in  the  place  who  could  either  read 
or  write,  and  was  therefore  indispensable.  For- 
merly all  the  letters  had  to  go  to  St.  John's,  a 
day's  extra  journey,  and  be  sorted  there,  sent 
back  across  the  island  to  Run-by-Guess,  eight 
hours  across  Cabot  Straits,  and  then  across  the 
Atlantic  to  England.  In  this  way  a  letter  might 
take  nearly  three  months  to  make  the  journey, 
and  we  are  sometimes  that  length  of  time  with- 
out news. 

Now  a  "mild"  has  set  in,  and  the  incessant 
drip,  drip,  drip  on  the  balcony  roof  outside  my 
window  makes  me  perfectly  understand  how 
lunacy  and  death  follow  the  persistent  falling  of 
a  single  drop  on  one  spot  on  the  forehead. 


[  135  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


February  11 
Last  week  I  had  a  three  days'  "cruise"  while 
the  doctor  considerately  sent  a  nurse  up  here  ta 
try  her  hand  at  my  family.  This  time  the  cruise 
was  "on  the  dogs"  instead  of  the  rolling  sea.  We 
left  for  Belvy  (Bellevue)  Bay  in  good  time  in 
the  morning  —  "got  our  anchors  early,"  as  our 
"carter"  put  it.  The  animation  of  the  dogs,  the 
lovely  snow-covered  country,  the  bright  win- 
ter's sun  pouring  down,  and  doubly  brilliant  by 
reflection  from  the  dazzling  snow,  the  huge  bon- 
fire in  the  woods  where  we  "cooked  the  kettle," 
all  make  one  understand  the  call  which  the  gipsy 
answers.  Of  course  there  is  another  side  to  the 
story,  when  one  is  caught  out  in  bitter  weather 
in  a  blizzard  of  driving  snow  and  sleet,  and  loses 
the  way,  or  perhaps  has  to  stay  out  in  the  open 
through  the  night.  For  instance,  this  winter  four 
of  the  Mission  dogs  have  perished  through  frost- 
bite on  these  journeys;  and  only  last  week  we 
[  130  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR  ' 

heard  that  one  of  the  mail  carriers  on  the  west 
coast  had  been  frozen  to  death. 

A  few  years  ago  one  dark  and  stormy  night 
the  Church  of  England  clergyman  was  called  to 
the  sick-bed  of  a  parishioner.  He  set  out  at  once 
to  cross  the  frozen  bay  and  reached  the  cottage 
in  safety.  After  a  visit  with  the  dying  man  he 
started  on  his  homeward  way.  It  was  cold  but 
clear,  and  he  covered  half  the  distance  without 
trouble.  Then  the  weather  veered  and  blinding 
snow  began  to  drive.  The  traveller  lost  his  way 
battling  against  it,  and  finally  sank  down  ut- 
terly exhausted.  He  was  found  dead  in  the 
morning  on  the  open  bay. 

A  day's  trip  brought  us  to  Grevigneux,  a 
charming  little  village  nestling  in  a  great  bowl 
formed  by  the  towering  cliffs  above  and  around 
it.  Every  one  in  the  settlement  is  a  Roman 
Catholic.  Never  did  I  receive  such  a  welcome; 
the  people  are  so  friendly  and  unspoiled.  The 
priest  is  a  Frenchman,  sensible,  hearty,  full  of 
[  137  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


humour  and  love  for  his  people.  Both  his  ideas 
and  his  manner  of  expressing  them  are  naive  and 
appealing.  I  had  been  told  that  in  his  sermons 
he  admonished  certain  members  of  his  flock  by 
name  for  their  shortcomings.  When  I  questioned 
him  about  this  he  gave  me  the  following  explana- 
tion: "You  see,  miss,  when  I  die  I  shall  stand 
before  the  Lord  and  my  people  will  be  standing 
behind  me.  The  Lord  will  look  them  over  and 
then  look  at  me,  and  if  any  one  of  them  is  n't 
there  he  will  say,  '  Cartier,  where  is  Tom  Flan- 
nigan?'  And  I  should  have  to  answer,  'Gone  to 
Purgatory  for  stealing  boots.'  And  the  Lord  will 
say  to  me,  *  Why,  did  n't  he  know  better  than  to 
steal  boots?  You  ought  to  have  told  him.'  What- 
ever could  I  say  for  myself  then.^^  '* 

The  next  night  we  spent  at  Lance  au  Diable, 
locally  known  as  "Lancy  Jobble."  In  this  place 
there  is  a  "medicine  man,"  with  methods  unique 
in  science.  He  is  the  seventh  son  of  a  seventh 
son,  and  his  healing  powers  are  reputed  to  be 
I  138] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

little  short  of  miraculous.  Legend  has  it  that 
such  must  never  request  payment  for  services, 
nor  must  the  patient  ever  thank  him,  lest  the* 
efficacy  of  the  cure  be  nullified.  He  is  an  unself- 
ish man,  a  thorough  believer  in  his  own  "gift"; 
and  last  summer,  for  instance,  right  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fishing  season,  he  walked  thirty  miles 
through  swamp  and  marsh  ridden  with  black 
flies,  to  see  a  sick  woman  who  desired  his  aid. 
Doubtless  the  spell  of  his  buoyant  personality 
does  bring  comfort  and  relief.  In  the  adjoining 
settlement  of  Bareneed  lives  an  enormously  fat 
old  woman  of  seventy-odd  summers.  Life  passes 
over  her,  and  its  only  effect  is  to  make  her 
rotund  and  unwieldy.  When  the  sick  come  to 
Brother  Luke  for  treatment,  if  any  of  the  few 
drugs  which  he  has  accumulated  chance  to  have 
lost  their  labels  —  a  not  uncommon  contingency 
in  this  land  of  mist  and  fog  —  he  takes  down  a 
likely-looking  bottle  from  the  shelf,  and  tries  a 
dose  of  the  contents  on  this  Mrs.  Goochy  —  and 
f  139  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


awaits  results.  If  nothing  untoward  transpires, 
he  then  passes  the  medicine  on  to  the  patient. 
Mrs.  Goochy  has  a  strong  acquisitive  bias,  and 


raises  no  objections  to  this  vicarious  proceeding. 
She  argues:  "I  does  n't  need  'un  now,  but  there 
be*s  no  tellin*.  I  may  need  'un  when  I  can't  get 
'un." 

Occasionally  the  sailing  is  not  so  smooth. 
While  we  were  there  the  doctor  saw  a  case  of 
a  woman  from  whom  this  ^sculapius  had  at- 
tempted to  extract  an  offending  molar,  his  only 
instrument  being  a  kind  of  miniature  winch 
[  140  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

which  screws  on  to  the  undesired  tooth.  Its  ac- 
tion proved  so  prompt  and  powerful  that  not 
only  did  it  remove  the  tooth  intended,  but  four 


others  as  well,  and  the  entire  alveolar  process 
connected  with  them. 

It  often  made  me  feel  ashamed  to  find  how 
much  some  of  these  people  have  made  of  their 
meagre  opportunities.  At  one  house  a  mother 
told  me  that  she  had  only  been  able  to  go  to 
school  for  six  months  when  she  was  a  girl,  yet 
[  141  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


she  had  taught  herself  to  read,  and  later  her  chil- 
dren also.  She  showed  me  most  interesting  arti- 
cles which  she  had  written  for  a  Canadian  news- 
paper describing  the  life  on  Le  Petit  Nord.  She 
often  had  to  sit  up  until  two  in  the  morning  to 
knit  her  children's  clothes,  and  rise  again  at 
dawn  to  prepare  breakfast  for  the  men  of  the 
household. 

The  following  day  saw  us  homeward  bound, 
only  this  time  the  travelling  was  not  so  roman- 
tic, for  a  "mild"  had  set  in,  and  the  going  was 
superlatively  slushy.  The  dogs  had  all  they  could 
do  to  drag  the  komatik  with  the  luggage  on  it. 
The  humans  walked,  generally  in  front  of  the 
dogs,  and  on  snow  racquets,  to  make  the  trail 
a  bit  easier  for  the  animals.  This  may  sound  an 
interesting  way  to  spend  a  winter's  day,  but  after 
twenty  minutes  of  it  you  would  cry  "enough." 
When  we  reached  Belvy  Bay  the  ice  around  the 
shore  was  broken  into  great  pans,  but  in  the  mid- 
dle it  looked  good.  To  go  round  is  an  endless  task, 
f  142  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

so  we  risked  crossing.  It  was  easy  to  get  off  to  the 
centre,  for  the  big  pans  at  the  edge  would  float 
a  far  greater  weight  than  a  komatik  and  dogs 
and  three  people.  The  ice  in  the  middle,  however, 
which  had  looked  so  sure  from  the  landwash, 
proved  to  be  "black"  —  that  is,  very,  very  thin, 
though  being  salt-water  ice,  it  was  elastic.  It  was 
waving  up  and  down  so  as  almost  to  make  one 
seasick,  but  in  its  elasticity  lay  our  only  chance 
of  safety.  We  flung  ourselves  down  at  full  length 
on  the  komatik  to  give  as  broad  a  surface  of  re- 
sistance as  possible,  and  what  encouragement 
was  given  the  dogs  we  did  with  our  voices.  Four 
miles  did  we  drive  over  that  swaying  surface, 
and  though  at  the  time  we  were  too  excited  to 
be  nervous,  we  were  glad  to  reach  the  'Hen a 
firma"  of  the  standing  ice  edge. 

At  each  place  we  were  received  with  the  most 

cordial  welcome,  and  scarcely  allowed  even  to 

express  our  gratitude.  It  was  always  they  who 

were  so  eager  to  thank  us  for  giving  them  un- 

l  143] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


asked  the  "pleasure  of  our  company."  Their  re- 
ception is  always  very  touching.  They  put  the 
best  they  have  before  you  and  will  take  nothing 
for  their  hospitality. 

In  my  various  letters  to  you  I  have  so  often 
taken  away  the  characters  of  our  dogs  that  I 
must  tell  you  of  one,  just  to  show  that  I  have  not 
altered  in  my  devotion  to  our  "true  first  friend." 
This  dog's  name  was  "Black,"  and  he  hved  many 
years  ago  at  Mistaken  Cove.  The  tales  of  his 
beauty,  his  cleverness  at  tricks,  and  his  endur- 
ance of  diflBculties  are  still  told,  but  chiefly  of 
his  devotion  to  his  master.  After  years  of  this 
companionship  the  beloved  master  died  and  was 
buried  in  the  woods  near  his  lonely  little  house. 
Black  was  inconsolable.  He  would  eat  nothing; 
he  started  up  at  every  slightest  noise  hoping  for 
the  familiar  whistle;  he  haunted  the  well-worn 
woodpath  where  they  had  had  so  many  happy 
days  together.  Finally  he  discovered  his  master's 
grave  and  was  found  frantically  tearing  at  the 
(  144  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

hard  earth  and  heavy  stones.  Nor  would  he  leave 
the  spot.  Food  was  brought  him  daily,  but  it 
went  untouched.  For  one  whole  week  he  lay  in 
the  wind  and  weather  in  the  hole  he  had  dug  on 
the  grave.  There  the  children  found  him  on  the 
eighth  morning  curled  up  and  apparently  asleep. 
His  long  quest  and  vigil  were  ended,  for  he  had 
reached  the  happy  hunting  grounds.  Who  shall 
say  that  a  beloved  hand  and  voice  did  not  wel- 
come him  home? 


[  145  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


St.  Antoine  Children's  Home  {by  courtesy) 
February  28 

Of  one  thing  I  am  certain,  we  must  have  a  new 
Home,  for  this  house  is  not  fit  for  habitation,  and 
it  is  not  nearly  large  enough.  Even  after  my  re- 
cent return  from  living  in  the  tiny  homes  of  the 
people  which  one  would  fancy  to  be  far  less  com- 
fortable, this  is  forcibly  impressed  upon  me.  We 
simply  cannot  go  on  refusing  to  take  in  children 
who  need  its  shelter  so  badly.  So  please  spread 
this  broadcast  among  the  friends  in  England. 
This  Home  has  been  enlarged  once  since  it  was 
built,  and  yet  it  is  not  nearly  big  enough  for  our 
present  needs.  We  have  no  nursery,  and  I  only 
wish  you  could  see  the  tiny  room  which  has  to 
do  duty  for  a  sewing-room.  It  is  certainly  only 
called  "room"by  courtesy,  for  there  is  scarcely 
space  to  sit  down,  much  less  to  use  a  needle  with- 
out risk  of  injury  to  one's  neighbour.  The  weekly 
mend  alone,  without  the  making  of  new  things, 
[  146  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

means  now  between  two  and  three  hundred  gar- 
ments in  addition  to  the  boots,  which  the  boys 
repair.  As  you  can  imagine,  this  is  no  hght  task 
and  we  are  often  driven  almost  distracted,  I 
think  the  stockings  are  the  worst,  sometimes  a 
himdred  pairs  to  face  at  once!  I  fear  we  must 
once  have  been  led  into  making  some  rather 
pointed  remarks  on  this  subject,  for  later,  on 
going  into  the  sewing-room,  we  found  a  slip  of 
printed  paper,  cut  from  a  magazine,  and  bearing 
the  title  of  an  article:  "Don't  Scold  the  Chil- 
dren WHEN  They  Tear  Their  Stockings." 

This  building  rocks  like  a  ship  at  sea;  the  roof 
continually  leaks,  the  windows  are  always  "com- 
ing abroad,"  and  the  panes  drop  out  at  "scat- 
tered times,"  while  even  when  shut,  the  wind 
whistles  through  as  if  to  show  his  utter  disdain 
of  our  inhospitable  and  paltry  efforts  to  keep 
him  outside.  On  stormy  nights,  in  spite  of  closed 
windows,  the  rooms  resemble  huge  snowdrifts. 
Seven  maids  with  seven  mops  sweeping  for  half 
[  147  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


a  year  could  never  get  it  clear.  The  building 
heaves  so  much  with  the  frost  that  the  doors  con- 
stantly refuse  to  work,  because  the  floors  have 
risen,  and  if  they  are  planed,  when  the  frost  dis- 
appears, a  yawning  chasm  confronts  you.  Our 
storeroom  is  so  cold  in  winter  that  we  put  on 
Arctic  furs  to  fetch  in  the  food,  and  in  summer 
it  is  flooded  so  that  we  swim  from  barrel  to  bar- 
rel as  Alice  floated  in  her  pool  of  tears.  But  far 
above  all  these  minor  discomforts  is  the  one 
overwhelming  desire  not  to  have  to  refuse  "one 
of  these  little  ones." 

One's  heart  aches  when  one  remembers  all  the 
money  and  effort  and  love  expended  on  a  single 
child  at  home,  that  he  may  lack  nothing  to  be 
prepared  in  body  and  spirit  to  meet  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  his  coming  life  journey.  But  in  this  land 
are  hundreds  of  children,  our  own  blood  and  kin, 
who  must  face  their  crushing  problems  often 
with  bodies  stunted  from  insufficient  nourish- 
ment in  childhood,  and  minds  unopened  and 
[  148  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

undeveloped,  not  through  lack  of  natural  ability, 
but  because  opportunity  has  never  come  to  them. 
As  one  looks  ahead  one  sees  clearly  what  a  con- 
tribution these  eager  children  could  offer  their 
"day"  if  only  their  cousins  at  home  had  "the 
eyes  of  their  understanding  purged  to  behold 
things  invisible  and  unseen." 


I  149  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


March  10 
The  seals  are  in !  That  to  you  doubtless  does  not 
seem  the  most  engrossing  item  of  news  that  could 
be  communicated,  but  that  merely  proves  what 
a  long  road  you  have  to  travel.  Before  the  break 
of  day  every  man  capable  of  carrying  a  weapon 
is  out  on  the  ice  to  try  and  get  his  share  of  the 
spoils. 

They  carry  every  conceivable  sort  of  gun, 
but  the  six-foot  muzzle-loaders  are  the  favour- 
ites. These  ancient  weapons  have  been  handed 
down  from  father  to  son  for  generations,  and  lo- 
cally go  by  the  somewhat  misleading  soubriquet 
ofthe"Kttledarlints." 

The  people  call  the  seals  "swiles."  There  is 
an  old  story  about  a  foreigner  who  once  asked, 
"How  do  you  spell  'swile'?"  The  answer  the 
fisherman  gave  him  was,  "We  don't  spell  [carry] 
'em.  We  mostly  hauls  'em." 

Sea-birds  have  also  come  in  the  "swatches'* 
[  150  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

of  open  water  between  the  pans.  A  gale  of  wind 
and  sea  has  broken  up  the  ice,  and  driven  it  out 
of  St.  Mien's  Bay,  which  is  just  round  the  cor- 
ner from  us.  Thousands  of  "turr"  are  there,  and 
the  men  are  reaping  many  a  banquet.  A  man's 
wealth  is  now  gauged  by  the  number  of  birds 
which  are  strung  around  the  eaves  of  his  house. 
It  is  a  safe  spot,  for  it  keeps  the  birds  thoroughly 
frozen,  and  well  out  of  reach,  at  this  time  of  year, 
of  the  ever-present  dog. 

Some  of  the  men  were  prevented  from  being 
on  the  spot  for  bird  shooting  as  promptly  as  they 
desired  by  the  fact  that  their  boats,  having  lain 
up  all  winter,  were  not  "plymmed."  If  you 
put  a  dried  apple,  for  instance,  into  water  it 
"plymms  ";  so  do  beans,  and  so  do  boats.  When 
a  boat  is  not  "plymmed,"  it  leaks  in  all  its 
seams,  and  is  therefore  looked  upon  as  unsafe 
for  these  sub-Arctic  waters  by  the  more  con- 
servative amongst  us.  To  stop  a  boat  leaking 
you  "chinch"  the  seams  with  oakum.  Our  fish- 
[  151] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


erman  sexton  has  just  told  me  that  "the  church 
was  right  chinched  last  night." 

One  by  one  our  supplies  are  giving  out  or  di- 
minishing. Each  week  as  I  send  down  an  order  to 
the  store  it  is  returned  with  some  item  crossed 
off.  These  articles  at  home  would  be  considered 
the  indispensables.  Already  potatoes  have  gone 
the  way  of  all  flesh;  there  is  no  more  butter 
(though  that  is  less  loss  than  it  sounds,  for  it  was 
packed  on  the  schooner  directly  next  the  kero- 
sene barrels,  and  a  liberal  quantity  of  that  vol- 
atile liquid  incorporated  itself  in  each  tub  of 
**oleo").  We  are  warned  that  the  remaining 
amount  of  flour  will  not  hold  out  till  the  spring 
boat  —  our  first  possible  chance  of  getting  rein- 
forcements for  our  larder  —  unless  we  exercise 
the  watchfulness  of  the  Sphinx.  The  year  before 
I  came  the  first  boat  did  not  reach  St.  Antoine 
till  the  28th  of  June. 

More  excitement  has  just  been  communicated 
to  me  by  Topsy:  much  more.  A  man  from  the 
f  152  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Baie  des  Frangais  has  killed  a  huge  polar  bear. 
It  took  ten  men  and  six  dogs  to  haul  the  beast 
home  after  he  had  been  finally  dispatched.  The 
man  fired  several  shots  at  him,  but  did  not  hit  a 


vital  spot.  One  bullet  only  remained  to  him,  and 
the  bear  was  coming  at  him  in  a  very  purposeful 
manner.  "Now  or  never,"  thought  the  fisher- 
man, and  fired.  The  creature  fell  dead  almost 
at  his  feet.  When  they  skinned  him  they  found 
bullets  in  his  legs  and  flank,  but  searched  and 
searched  in  vain  for  the  fatal  one  which  had  been 
[  153  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


the  end  of  him.  There  was  no  mark  on  the  skin 
in  any  vital  spot.  At  last  they  fomid  it.  The  ball 
had  penetrated  exactly  through  the  bear's  ear 
into  his  brain.  All  the  countryside  is  now  dining 
off  bear  steak;  and  there  is  a  splendid  skin  to  be 
purchased  if  you  are  so  minded.  I  have  eaten  a 
bit  of  the  steak,  though  I  confess  I  did  not  sit 
down  to  the  feast  with  any  pleasurable  anticipa- 
tion, as  the  men  said  that  they  found  the  remains 
of  a  recently  devoured  seal  in  Bruin's  "tum."  I 
had  an  agreeable  surprise.  The  meat  was  fibrous 
and  a  little  tough,  but  it  was  quite  good  —  a 
vast  improvement  on  the  sea-birds  which  are  so 
highly  valued  in  the  local  commissariat. 

The  Prophet  has  a  vivid  idea  of  the  processes 
going  on  in  the  heads  of  animals.  He  says  that 
up  to  fifteen  years  ago  there  were  bears  innu- 
merable "in  the  country."  "And  one  day,  miss," 
he  explained,  "the  whole  crew  of  them  gets 
their  anchors  and  leaves  in  a  body."  To  hear 
him  one  would  imagine  that  at  a  concerted  signal 
[  154  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

the  bears  came  out  of  their  burrows  and  shook 
the  dust  of  the  land  from  their  feet. 
^  The  Eskimos  toll  the  seals.  They  lie  on  the  ice 
and  wave  their  legs  in  the  air,  and  the  seals,  curi- 
ous animals,  approach  to  discover  the  nature  of 
the  phenomenon,  and  are  forthwith  dispatched. 
One  Eskimo  of  a  histrionic  temperament  decided 
to  "go  one  better."  He  went  out  to  the  ice  edge, 
climbed  into  his  sealskin  sleeping-bag,  and 
waved  his  legs,  as  per  stage  directions.  We  are 
not  informed  whether  the  device  would  have 
proved  a  successful  decoy  to  the  seals,  for  before 
any  had  been  lured  within  range,  another  In- 
nuit,  having  seen  the  sealskin  legs  gesticulating 
on  the  ice  edge,  naturally  mistook  them  for  the 
real  thing,  fired  with  regrettable  accuracy,  and 
went  out  to  find  a  dead  cousin. 

The  story  is  the  only  deterrent  I  have  from 

dressing  in  my  white  Russian  hareskin  coat,  and 

sitting  in  the  graveyard  some  dusky  evening. 

The  people  claim  that  the  place  is  haunted.  I 

[  155  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


have  never  met  a  "Yoho"  and  never  expect  to, 
but  I  would  dearly  love  to  see  how  others  act 
•  when  they  think  they  have.  Only  the  suspicion 
that  they  would  "plump  for  safety,"  and  fire  the 
inevitable  muzzle-loader  at  my  white  garment, 
keeps  me  from  making  the  experiment  in  corpore 
vile. 

The  birds  and  the  seals  and  the  bears  and 
white  foxes  coming  south  on  the  moving  ice  are 
signs  of  spring.  There  is  a  stir  in  the  air  as  if  the 
people  as  well  sensed  that  the  back  of  the  long 
winter  was  broken.  How  it  has  flown!  You  can- 
not fancy  my  sensations  of  lonesomeness  when 
I  think  that  I  shall  never  spend  another  in  this 
country.  You  cannot  describe  or  analyze  the  lure 
of  the  land  and  its  people,  but  it  is  there,  and 
grips  you.  I  have  grown  to  love  it,  and  you  will 
welcome  home  an  uncomplimentary  homesick 
comrade  when  September  comes. 


[  150  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


April  1 
Last  minute  of  Sunday,  so  here 's  to  you.   To- 
morrow I  shall  be  cheerfully  immersed  up  to  the 
eyes  in  work. 

Oh!  this  Home.  How  little  it  deserves  the 
name!  Our  English  storms  are  nothing  but  ba- 
bies compared  with  the  appalling  blasts  which 
sweep  down  upon  us  from  the  north.  In  summer 
the  furious  seas  dash  against  the  cliffs  as  if  to 
protect  them  from  the  desecration  of  human  en- 
croachment. The  fine  snow  filters  in  between  the 
roof  and  ceiling  of  this  building,  and  in  a  "mild,'* 
such  as  we  are  now  experiencing,  it  melts,  and 
endless  little  rivulets  trickle  down  in  nearly  every 
room.  The  water  comes  in  on  my  bed,  on  the 
kitchen  range,  and  on  the  dining-room  table.  It 
falls  on  the  sewing-machine  in  one  room,  on  the 
piano  and  bookcase  in  another.  Its  cathohcity 
of  taste  is  plain  disheartening ! 

You  ask  whether  these  kiddies  have  the  stuff 
[  157] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


in  them  to  repay  what  you  are  pleased  to  term 
"such  an  outlay  of  effort."  My  emphatic  "yes" 
should  have  been  so  insistent  as  to  have  reached 
you  by  telepathy  when  the  doubt  first  presented 
itself.  The  Home  has  been  established  now  long 
enough  to  have  some  of  its  "graduates"  go  out 
into  hfe;  and  the  splendid  manhood  and  woman- 
hood of  these  young  people  are  at  once  a  suffi- 
cient reward  to  us  and  a  silencing  response  to 
you.  Many  of  them  have  been  sent  to  the  States 
and  Canada  for  further  education,  and  are  now 
not  only  writing  a  successful  story  for  themselves, 
but  helping  their  less  fortunate  neighbours,  in  a 
way  we  from  outside  never  can,  to  turn  over 
many  a  new  leaf  in  their  books. 

Yesterday  I  attended  the  theatre,  only  it  was 
the  operating  theatre.  The  patient  on  this  occa- 
sion was  a  doll,  the  surgeon  a  lad  of  seven,  him- 
self a  victim  of  infantile  paralysis,  and  the  head 
nurse  assisting  was  aged  nine,  and  wears  a 
brace  on  each  leg.  The  stage  was  the  children's 
[  158] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

ward  of  the  hospital.  Here  are  several  pathetic 
little  people,  orthopedic  cases,  brought  in  for 
treatment  during  the  winter,  and  who  must  stay 
till  the  spring  boat  arrives,  as  their  homes  are 
now  cut  off  by  interminable  miles  of  snow  wastes 
and  icy  sea.  Nothing  escapes  their  notice.  They 
tear  up  their  Christmas  picture  books,  and  when 
charged  with  the  enormity  of  their  offence,  ex- 
plain that  they  "must  have  adhesive  tape  for 
their  operative  work."  Dick,  the  surgeon,  was 
overheard  the  other  day  telling  Margaret,  the 
head  nurse,  as  together  they  amputated  the  legs 
of  her  doll,  "This  is  the  way  Sir  Robert  Jones 
does  it." 

Next  to  operating,  the  children  love  music; 
and  they  love  it  with  a  repertoire  varied  to  meet 
every  mood,  from  "Keep  the  Home  Fires  Burn- 
ing" to  "In  the  Courts  of  Belshazzar  and  a  Hun- 
dred of  his  Lords."  One  three-year-old  scrap 
comes  from  a  Salvation  Army  household,  and 
listens  to  all  such  melodies  with  marked  disap- 
[  159  ]  . 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


proval.  But  when  the  others  finish,  she  "pipes 
up,"  shutting  her  eyes,  clapping  her  hands  and 
swaying  back  and  forth  — 

"Baby 's  left  the  cradle  for  the  Golden  Shore: 
Now  he  floats,  now  he  floats, 
Happy  as  before." 

Three  of  the  kiddies  are  Roman  CathoHcs  and 
have  taught  their  companions  to  say  their  pray- 
ers properly  of  an  evening.  They  all  cross  them- 
selves devoutly  at  the  close;  but  this  instruction 
has  fallen  on  fallow  ground  in  the  wee  three-year- 
old.  She  sits  with  eyes  tightly  screwed  together 
lest  she  be  forced  even  to  witness  such  heresy 
and  schism. 

Yesterday  I  was  walking  with  Gabriel  when 
we  came  upon  a  tiny  bird  essaying  his  first  spring 
song  on  a  tree- top  nearby.  Gabriel  looked  at 
the  newcomer  silently  for  several  minutes,  and 
finally,  turning  his  luminous  brown  eyes  up  to 
my  face,  asked,  "Do  he  sing  hymns,  Teacher?" 


IGO 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


April  19 
The  village  sale  was'held  last  week.  This  has 
become  an  annual  occurrence,  and  the  proceeds 
are  devoted  to  varying  good  objects.  This  time 
the  hospital  was  the  beneficiary.  For  months  the 
countryside,  men  and  women,  have  been  making 
articles,  and  I  can  assure  you  it  is  a  relief  to  have 
it  over  and  such  a  success  to  boot,  and  life's  quiet 
tone  restored.  We  made  large  numbers  of  pur- 
chases, and  consumed  unbelievable  quantities  of 
more  than  solid  nourishment.  The  people  have 
shown  the  greatest  ingenuity  and  diligence,  and 
the  display  was  a  credit  to  their  talent.  I  was 
particularly  struck  with  the  really  clever  carving 
representing  local  scenes  which  the  fishermen 
had  done  with  no  other  tools  than  their  jack- 
knives.  The  auction  was  the  keynote  of  the  eve- 
ning, due  largely  to  the  signal  ability  of  the  auc- 
tioneer. His  methods  are  effective,  but  strictly  his 
own.  Cakes,  made  generally  in  graded  layers  and 
[  161] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


liberally  coated  with  different  coloured  sugar, 
were  the  favourites.  As  he  held  up  the  last  tee- 
tering mountain  he  "bawled":  "What  am  I 
bid  for  this  wonderful  cake?  'T  is  a  bargain  at 
any  price.  Why,  she 's  so  heavy  I  can't  hold  her 
with  one  hand."  It  fetched  seven  dollars ! 

The  yearly  meet  for  sports  was  held  in  the  aft- 
ernoon before  the  sale,  and  was  voted  by  all  to 
be  a  great  success.  It  is  a  far  cry  from  the  days 
when  games  were  introduced  here  by  the  Mis- 
sion. Then  the  people's  lives  were  so  drab,  and 
they  had  little  idea  of  the  sporting  qualities 
which  every  Englishman  values  so  highly.  In 
those  early  days  if  in  a  game  of  football  one  side 
kicked  a  goal,  they  had  to  wait  till  the  other  had 
done  the  same  before  the  game  could  proceed, 
or  the  play  would  have  been  turned  into  a  battle. 
Now  everything  in  trousers  in  the  place  can  be 
seen  of  an  evening  out  on  the  harbour  ice  kick- 
ing a  ball  about.  The  harbour  is  our  very  roomy 
athletic  field. 

[  162  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Twenty-two  teams  had  entered  for  the  dog 
race,  and  the  start,  when  the  whole  number  were 
ranged  up  in  the  hne,  was  pandemonium  un- 
loosed. The  dogs  were  barking  out  threatenings 
and  slaughter  to  the  teams  next  them,  their  mas- 
ters were  shouting  unheeded  words  of  command, 
the  crowd  were  cheering  their  favourites,  and 
altogether  you  would  never  have  guessed  from 
the  racket  and  confusion  that  you  were  north  of 
the  Roaring  Forties. 

The  last  event  on  the  sports  programme  was 
a  scramble  for  coloured  candies  by  all  the  chil- 
dren of  the  village.  Our  flock  from  the  Home  par- 
ticipated. The  proceeding  was  as  unhygienic  as 
it  was  alluring,  and  our  surprise  was  great  when 
a  universally  healthy  household  greeted  the 
morrow  morn. 

When  I  heard  the  amount  the  poor  folk  had 

raised  for  charity  out  of  their  meagre  pittance,  I 

felt  reproached.  It  is  a  consistent  fact  here  that 

the  people  give  and  do  more  than  their  means 

[  163] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


justify,  and  it  must  involve  a  hard  pinch  for 
them  in  some  other  quarter. 

Coming  from  the  sale  at  ten  at  night  I  looked 
for  our  "  Yoho"  in  passing  the  churchyard,  but 
was  unrewarded,  though  some  of  the  harbour 
people  assured  me  in  the  morning  that  they  had 
seen  it  plainly.  Can  there  be  anything  in  the  cur- 
rent belief  that  the  men  of  the  sea  are  more 
psychic  than  we  case-hardened  products  of  civ- 
ilization, or  is  it  merely  superstition?  There  is 
a  story  here  of  a  man  called  Gaulton,  which  is 
vouched  for  by  all  the  older  men  who  can  recall 
the  incident.  It  seems  that  in  Savage  Cove  this 
old  George  Gaulton  lived  till  he  was  ninety.  He 
died  on  December  4,  1883.  On  the  16th  he  ap- 
peared in  the  flesh  to  a  former  acquaintance  at 
Port  au  Choix,  fifty  miles  from  the  spot  at  which 
he  had  died.  This  man  Shenicks  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  the  curious  visitation : 

"I  was  in  the  woods  cutting  timber  for  a  day 
and  a  half.  During  the  whole  of  that  time  I  was 
f  1G4  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

sure  I  heard  footsteps  near  me  in  the  snow,  al- 
though I  could  see  nothing.  On  the  evening  of 
the  second  day,  in  consequence  of  heavy  rain, 
I  returned  home  early.  I  knew  my  cattle  had 
plenty  of  food,  but  something  forced  me  to  go 
to  the  hay-pook.  While  there,  in  a  few  moments 
I  stood  face  to  face  with  old  George  Gaulton.  I 
was  not  frightened.  We  stood  in  the  rain  and 
talked  for  some  time.  In  the  course  of  the  conver- 
sation the  old  man  gave  me  a  message  for  his 
eldest  son,  and  begged  me  to  deliver  it  to  him 
myself  before  the  end  of  March.  Immediately 
afterwards  he  disappeared,  and  then  I  was  ter- 
ribly afraid." 

A  few  weeks  later  Shenicks  went  all  the  way 
to  Savage  Cove  and  delivered  the  message  given 
to  him  in  so  strange  a  fashion. 

A  word  of  apology  and  I  close.  In  an  early 
letter  to  you  I  recall  judging  harshly  a  concoc- 
tion called  "brewis."  Experience  here  has  taught 
me  that  our  own  delicacies  meet  with  a  similar 
[165] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


fate  at  the  hands  of  my  present  fellow  country- 
men. I  offered  Carmen  on  her  arrival  a  cup  of 
cocoa  for  Sunday  supper.  After  one  sniff,  bid- 
dable and  polite  child  though  she  was,  I  saw  her 
surreptitiously  pour  the  "hemlock  cup"  out  of 
the  open  window  behind  her.  ^ 


[  1C6] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


May  23 
Many  miles  over  the  hills  from  St.  Antoine  lies 
one  of  the  wildest  and  most  beautiful  harbours 
on  this  coast.  Nestling  within  magnificently  high 
rocks,  the  picturesque  colouring  of  which  is  re- 
flected in  the  quiet  water  beneath,  lies  the  little 
village  of  Cremailliere.  It  is  only  a  small  settle- 
ment of  tiny  cottages  beside  the  edge  of  the  sea, 
but  it  has  the  unenviable  reputation  of  being 
the  worst  village  on  the  coast.  In  winter  only 
three  families  live  there,  but  in  the  summer- 
time a  number  of  men  come  for  the  fishing,  and 
they  with  their  wives  and  children  exist  in  al- 
most indescribable  hovels.  Some  of  these  huts 
are  just  rough  board  affairs,  about  six  feet  by 
ten,  and  resemble  cow  sheds  more  than  houses. 
If  there  is  a  window  at  all,  it  is  merely  a  small 
square  of  glass  (not  made  to  open)  high  up  on 
one  side  of  the  wall.  In  some  there  is  not  even 
the  pretence  of  a  window,  but  in  cases  of  severe 
[  167  1. 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


sickness  a  hole  is  knocked  through  for  venti- 
lation on  hearing  of  the  near  approach  of  the 
Mission  doctor.  The  walls  have  only  one  thick- 
ness of  board  with  no  lining  and  the  roofs  are 
thatched  with  sods.  There  is  no  flooring  what- 
ever. Not  one  person  in  Cremailliere  can  either 
read  or  write. 

Yesterday  there  was  a  funeral  held  in  one  of 
the  little  villages,  and  the  mingling  of  pathos 
and  humour  made  one  realize  more  vividly  than 
ever  how  "  all  the  world 's  akin."  A  young  mother 
had  died  who  could  have  been  saved  if  her  folk 
had  realized  the  danger  in  time  and  sent  for  the 
doctor.  She  was  lying  in  a  rude  board  coffin  in 
the  bare  kitchen.  As  space  was  at  a  premium  the 
casket  had  been  placed  on  the  top  of  the  long 
box  which  serves  as  a  residence  for  the  family 
rooster  and  chickens.  They  kept  popping  their 
heads,  with  their  round,  quick  eyes  out  through 
the  slats,  and  emitting  startled  crows  and  clucks 
at  the  visitors.  The  young  woman  was  dressed 
f  108  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

in  all  her  outdoor  clothing;  a  cherished  lace  cur- 
tain sought  to  hide  the  rough,  unplaned  boards 
of  the  coflSn  —  for  it  had  been  hewn  from  the 
forest  the  day  before.  The  depth  of  her  husband's 
grief  was  evidenced  by  the  fact  that  he  had  spent 
his  last  and  only  two  dollars  in  the  purchase,  at 
the  Nameless  Cove  general  store,  of  the  highly 
flowered  hat  which  surmounted  his  wife's  young 
careworn  but  peaceful  face  as  she  lay  at  rest. 

I  saw  for  the  first  time  an  old  custom  pre- 
served on  the  coast.  Before  the  coffin  was  closed 
all  the  family  passed  by  the  head  of  the  deceased 
and  kissed  the  face  of  their  loved  one  for  the  last 
time,  while  all  the  visitors  followed  and  laid  their 
hands  reverently  on  the  forehead.  Only  when 
the  master  of  ceremonies,  who  is  always  specially 
appointed,  had  cried  out  in  a  sonorous  voice, 
"Any  more?"  and  met  with  no  response,  was 
the  ceremony  of  closing  the  lid  permitted. 

Surely  the  children  are  the  one  and  only  hope 
of  this  country.  Through  them  we  may  trust  to 
[  169  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


raise  the  moral  standard  of  the  generations  to 
come,  but  it  is  going  to  be  a  very  slow  process 
to  make  any  headway  against  the  ignorance  and 
absence  of  desire  for  better  things  which  prevails 
so  largely  here. 

I  must  tell  you  of  the  latest  addition  to  our 
family.  On  the  first  boat  in  the  spring  there  ar- 
rived a  family,  brought  by  neighbours,  to  say 
what  the  Mission  could  do  for  them.  I  think  I 
have  never  seen  a  more  forlorn  sight  than  this 
group  presented  when  they  stepped  from  the 
steamer.  There  was  the  father  (the  mother  is 
dead),  an  elderly  half-witted  cripple  capable 
neither  of  caring  for  himself  nor  for  his  children, 
four  boys  of  varying  sizes,  and  a  girl  of  fourteen 
in  the  last  stages  of  tuberculosis.  The  family 
were  nearly  frozen,  half -starved,  and  completely 
dazed  at  the  hopelessness  of  their  situation.  The 
girl  was  admitted  to  the  hospital,  where  she  has 
since  died,  and  the  youngest  boy,  Israel,  we  took 
into  the  Home.  Alas,  we  had  only  room  for  the 
[  170  I 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  ILVRBOUR 

one.  Israel  was  at  first  much  overawed  by  the 
standard  of  cleanliness  required  in  this  institu- 
tion, and  protested  vigorously  when  we  tried  to 
put  him  into  the  bathtub.  He  explained  to  us 
that  he  never  washed  more  than  his  face  and 
hands  at  home,  not  even  his  neck  and  ears,  the 
limitation  of  territory  being  strictly  defined  and 
scrupulously  observed. 


[  171  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


June  20 
Unlike  last  year  this  summer  promises  to  be 
hot,  at  least  for  this  country.  I  have  felt  one 
great  lack  this  year.  You  have  to  pass  the  long 
months  of  what  would  be  lovely  spring  in  Eng- 
land without  a  sign  of  a  living  blade  of  flower, 
though  a  few  little  songbirds  did  their  best 
bravely  to  make  it  up  to  us.  Already  we  are  being 
driven  almost  crazy  with  the  mosquitoes  and 
black  flies,  songsters  of  no  mean  calibre,  especially 
at  night.  In  desperation  our  little  ones  yesterday 
succeeded  in  killing  an  unusually  large  specimen, 
and  after  burying  it  with  great  solemnity  were 
heard  singing  around  the  grave  in  no  uncheerful 
tones,  "Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee." 

I  hate  to  think  that  these  next  few  weeks  will 
be  the  last  I  shall  spend  in  this  country  and  with 
these  children.  The  North  seems  to  weave  over 
one  a  kind  of  spell  and  fascination  all  its  own.  I 
look  back  sometimes  and  smile  that  I  should 
[  172  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

ever  have  felt  the  year  long  or  dreary;  it  has 
passed  so  quickly  that  I  can  scarcely  believe  it 
already  time  to  be  thinking  of  you  and  Eng- 
land again.  I  may  emulate  the  example  of  Mrs. 
Lot,  but  with  the  certainty  that  a  similar  fate 
to  hers  does  not  await  me. 

I  have  just  unpacked  a  barrel  of  clothing  sent 
from  home  to  the  Orphanage,  and  find  to  my 
disgust  that  it  is  almost  entirely  composed  of 
muslin  blouses  and  old  ladies'  bonnets!  What 
am  I  to  do  with  them.''  The  blouses  I  can  use  as 
mosquito  veiling,  but  these  bonnets  are  not  the 
kind  our  babies  wear.  I  shall  present  one  to 
Topsy,  who  will  look  adorable  in  it. 

You  hint  it  is  hard  to  get  up  interest  in  Lab- 
rador because  we  are  neither  heathen  nor  black. 
I  can  imagine  your  sewing  circle  of  dear  old 
ladies  (perhaps  they  sent  the  bonnets)  discus- 
sing the  relative  merits  of  working  to  send  aero- 
planes to  the  Arabs,  bicycles  to  the  Bedouins, 
comforters  to  the  Chinese,  jumpers  to  the  Jap- 
[  173  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


anese,  handkerchiefs  to  the  Hottentots,  hair 
nets  to  the  Hindoos,  mouth  organs  to  the  Mo- 
hammedans, pinafores  to  the  Parsees,  pyjamas 
to  the  Papuans,  prayer-books  to  the  Pigmies, 
sandwiches  to  the  South  Sea  Islanders,  or  zith- 
ers to  the  Zulus.  Just  wait  till  I  can  talk  to 
your  dear  old  ladies! 

A  few  days  ago  we  had  a  very  narrow  escape 
from  fire;  indeed,  it  seemed  for  some  time  as  if 
the  whole  of  the  Mission  would  be  wiped  out. 
It  was  a  half-holiday  and  our  boys  had  gone 
fishing  to  the  Devil's  Pond,  a  favourite  spot  of 
theirs,  about  a  mile  away.  Unfortunately  Noah 
was  seized  with  the  idea  of  lighting  a  fire  by 
which  to  cook  the  trout,  the  matches  having 
been  stolen  from  my  room.  It  had  been  dry  for 
several  days,  there  was  quite  a  wind,  and  the 
fire,  catching  the  furze,  quickly  got  beyond  the 
one  required  for  culinary  purposes.  The  boys 
first  tried  to  smother  it  with  their  coats,  but 
finding  that  of  no  avail  ran  home  to  give  the 
[  174  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

alarm.  By  the  time  the  men  could  get  to  the  spot 
the  fire  had  spread  so  rapidly  that  attention  had 
to  be  turned  towards  trying  to  save  the  houses. 
The  doctor's  house  was  the  one  most  directly 
threatened  at  first,  and  we  proceeded  to  strip  it 
of  all  furniture,  carrying  everything  to  the  fore- 
shore to  be  ready  to  be  taken  off  if  necessary. 
The  doctor  was  away  on  a  medical  call,  and  you 
can  imagine  my  feelings  when  I  expected  every 
moment  to  see  the  Northern  Light  come  round 
the  point,  the  doctor's  house  in  flames  and  his 
household  gods  scattered  to  the  winds!  Then 
we  dismantled  this  place  —  the  children  having 
been  sent  at  the  outset  to  a  place  of  safety  — 
and  removed  the  patients  from  the  hospital. 
Every  man  in  the  place  was  hard  at  work,  and 
there  were  few  of  us  who  dared  to  hope  that  we 
should  have  a  roof  over  our  heads  that  night. 
Happily  the  wind  suddenly  dropped,  the  fire 
died  down,  and  late  that  night  we  were  able  to 
return  and  endeavour  to  sort  out  babies  and 
[  175  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


furniture.  The  goddess  of  disorder  reigned  su- 
preme, and  it  was  only  after  many  weary  hours 
that  we  were  able  to  find  beds  for  the  babies  and 
babies  for  the  beds.  And  it  was  our  boys  who 
started  the  fire!  I  am  covered  with  confusion 
every  second  when  I  stop  to  think  of  it,  and  won- 
der if  this  is  not  the  psychological  moment  to 
make  my  exit  from  this  Mission. 


17G 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

July  11 
By  invitation  of  the  doctor  I  am  off  for  a  trip  on 
the  Northern  Light  next  week.  He  offers  me  thus 
the  chance  to  see  other  portions  of  the  Shore 
before  he  drops  me  at  the  Iron  Bomid  Islands, 
where  I  can  connect  with  the  southern-going 
coastal  steamer.  The  Prophet  has  encouraged 
me  with  the  observation  that  "nearly  all  the 
female  ladies  what  comes  aboard  her  do  be  won- 
derful sick,"  but  I  am  not  to  be  deterred.  So: 

"Now,  Brothers,  for  the  icebergs  of  frozen  Labrador, 
Floating  spectral  in  the  moonshine  along  the  low,  black 

shore. 
Where  in  the  mist  the  rock  is  hiding,  and  the  sharp  reef 

lurks  below; 
And  the  white  squall  smites  in  summer,  and  the  autmnn 

tempests  blow." 

This  is  a  mere  scrap  of  a  greeting,  for  the  day 
of  departure  is  so  near  that  I  feel  I  want  to 
spend  every  minute  with  the  kiddies.  I  count 
on  your  forbearance,  and  your  knowledge  that 
though  my  pen  is  quiet,  my  heart  still  holds  you 
without  rival. 

[  177  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


On  hoard  the  Northern  Light 
July  16 

Is  to-day  as  lovely  in  your  part  of  the  world  as  it 
is  in  mine,  and  do  you  greet  it  with  a  background 
of  as  exciting  a  night  as  the  one  that  has  just 
passed  over  us?  I  wonder.  I  came  across  some 
old  forms  of  bills  of  lading  sent  out  to  this  coun- 
try from  England.  They  always  closed  with  this 
most  appropriate  expression,  "And  so  God  send 
the  good  ship  to  her  desired  port  in  safety.**  It 
has  fallen  into  disuse  long  ago,  but  about  break 
of  early  day  the  idea  took  a  very  compelling 
shape  in  my  mind.  We  put  out  from  Bonne  Es- 
perance  just  as  night  was  falling,  and  there  was 
no  moon  to  aid  us.  The  doctor  had  decided  on 
the  outside  run,  and  brief  as  is  my  acquaintance 
with  the  "lonely  Labrador,"  I  knew  what  that 
meant.  I  therefore  betook  myself  betimes  to  bed 
as  the  best  spot  for  an  unseasoned  mariner. 
Twelve  o*clock  found  us  barely  holding  our  own 
[  178  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

against  a  furious  head  wind  and  sea  —  "An  aw- 
ful night  for  a  sinner,"  as  our  cheery  Prophet 
remarked  as  he  lurched  past  my  cabin  door.  Ice- 
bergs were  dotted  about.  Great  combers  were 
pouring  over  our  bow  and  the  floods  came  sweep- 
ing down  the  decks  sounding  like  the  roar  of  a 
thousand  cataracts. 

The  only  way  one  could  keep  from  being 
hurled  out  of  one's  berth  was  to  cling  like  a 
leech  to  a  rope  fastened  to  a  ring  in  the  wall,  for 
the  little  ship  was  bouncing  back  and  forth  so 
fast  and  so  far  that  it  was  impossible  to  compare 
it  with  the  motion  of  any  other  craft.  Day  be- 
gan to  dawn  about  3  a.m.  By  the  dim  light  I 
could  make  out  mighty  mountains  of  green 
foaming  water.  At  each  roll  of  the  steamer  we 
seemed  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  a  huge  emerald 
pit.  Suddenly  some  one  yelled,  "There  she 
goes!"  and  that  second  the  boat  was  dragged 
down,  down,  down.  An  immense  wave  had 
caught  us,  rolled  us  so  far  over  that  our  dory  in 
[  179  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


davits  had  filled  with  water  to  the  brim.  As  the 
ship  righted  herself,  the  weight  of  the  dory- 
snapped  off  the  davit  at  the  deck,  and  the  boat, 
still  attached  by  her  painter,  was  dragged  un- 
derneath our  hull,  and  threatened  to  pull  us 
down  with  it.  In  two  seconds  the  men  had  cut 
her  away,  but  not  before  she  had  nearly  banged 
herself  to  matchwood  against  our  side. 

Now  we  are  lying  under  the  lea  of  St.  Augus- 
tine Island  waiting  for  the  wind  to  abate.  The 
chief  engineer  has  just  offered  to  row  me  ashore 
to  hunt  for  young  puflSns.  More  later. 

There  were  hundreds  of  them  in  every  fam- 
ily, and  so  many  families  that   it  resembled 


nothing  so  much  as  a  puffin  ghetto.  I  judged 

from  the  turmoil  that  they  were  screeching  for 

"a  place  in  the  sun."  The  noise  tliey  made  did 

\  180  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

not  in  the  least  accord  with  their  respectable 
Quaker  appearance.  Shall  I  bring  you  one  as  a 
pet?  Its  austere  presence  would  help  you  to 
remember  your  "latter  end." 

When  I  wrote  you  that  there  was  ice  about,  I 
did  not  refer  to  the  field  ice  through  which  we 
travelled  on  my  way  north.  This  is  the  real 
thing  this  time  —  icebergs,  and  lots  of  them. 
They  call  the  little  ones  "growlers,"  and  big  and 
little  alike  are  classed  as  "pieces  of  ice"!  They 
are  not  my  idea  of  a  "piece"  of  anything.  I 
know  now  what  the  Ancient  Mariner  meant 
when  he  said: 

**And  ice  mast  high  came  floating  by 
As  green  as  emerald." 

It  exactly  describes  them,  only  it  does  n't  wholly 
describe  them,  for  no  one  could.  They  loom  up 
in  every  shape  and  size  and  variation  of  form, 
pinnacles  and  towers  and  battlements,  stately 
palaces  of  glittering  crystal,  triumphal  arch- 
ways more  gorgeous  than  ever  welcomed  a  con- 
l  181  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


queror  home.  Sometimes  they  are  shining  white, 
too  dazzhng  to  look  at;  and  sometimes  they  are 
streaked  with  great  vivid  bands  of  green  and 
azure  which  are  so  miearthly  and  brilhant  that 
I  feel  certain  some  fairy  has  dipped  his  brush  in 
the  solar  spectrum  and  dabbed  the  colours  on 
this  gigantic  palette. 

'  A  sea  without  these  jewels  of  the  Arctic  will 
forever  look  barren  and  unfinished  to  me  after 
this.  Even  the  sailors,  who  know  too  well  what 
a  menace  they  are  to  their  craft,  yield  to  their 
beauty  a  mute  and  grudging  homage.  To  sit  in 
the  sim  or  the  moonlight,  and  watch  a  heavy 
sea  hurling  mountains  of  water  and  foam  over 
one  of  these  ocean  monarchs  is  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  experience.  So  too  it  is  to  listen  to  the 
thunder  of  one  of  them  "foundering";  for  their 
equilibrium  is  very  im  stable,  and  the  action  of 
the  sea,  as  they  travel  southwards  to  their  death 
in  the  Gulf  Stream,  cuts  them  away  at  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  Blocks  weighing  unbelievable 
[  182  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

tons  crash  off  them,  or  they  will  suddenly,  with- 
out a  second's  warning,  break  into  a  million 
pieces.  I  can  never  conquer  a  creepiness  of  the 
spine  as  I  listen  to  one  of  these  tragedies.  It  is  a 
startling,  new  sensation  such  as  we  never  expect 
to  meet  again  after  childhood  has  shut  its  doors 
on  us.  In  the  quiet  that  follows  the  gigantic  dis- 
integration one  half  expects  to  see  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth  emerge  out  of  the  chaos  of  ice 
quivering  in  the  water. 

You  often  warned  me  in  the  course  of  the  past 
year  how  dull  life  would  be.  You  knew  how  I 
loved  a  city.  I  still  do.  But  the  last  word  on 
earth  one  could  apply  to  the  hfe  here  is  "dull." 
Nature  takes  care  of  that.  I  defy  you  to  walk 
along  any  street  in  London  and  see  six  porpoises 
and  a  whale!  That  is  what  I  saw  this  morning. 
Oh!  of  course  you  may  counter  by  telling  me 
that  neither  can  I  see  an  automobile  or  a  fire  en- 
gine, but  I  have  you,  because  I  can  answer  that 
I  have  seen  them  already.  How  are  you  going  to 
[  183  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


get  out  of  that  comer,  except  by  saying  that  you 
do  not  want  to  see  the  old  porpoises  and  whales 
and  bergs?  —  and  I  know  your  *' Scotch"  con- 
science forbids  such  distortion  of  facts. 

I  have  come  to  believe  in  the  personality  of 
porpoises.  They  swam  beside  the  ship,  playing 
about  in  the  water  all  the  while,  rolling  over  and 
diving,  and  chasing  each  other  just  as  if  they 
knew  they  had  a  "gallery."  We  did  not  reward 
them  very  well  either,  for  the  Prophet  shot  one, 
and  we  ate  bits  of  him  for  lunch  —  the  porpoise, 
I  mean,  not  the  Prophet.  I  thought  he  would 
make  a  good  companion-piece  for  the  polar  bear, 
and  he  was  quite  edible.  He  only  needed  a  rasher 
of  bacon  to  make  you  believe  he  was  calf's  liver. 

So  you  see  that  between  puflBns  and  porpoises 
and  whales,  and  "growlers"  and  lost  dories,  I 
crowded  enough  into  one  day  to  give  me  dreams 
that  Alice  in  Wonderland  might  covet. 

In  your  secret  heart  don't  you  wish  that  you 
too  were 

[  184  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


"Where  the  squat-legged  Eskimo 
Waddles  in  the  ice  and  snow. 
And  the  playful  polar  bear 
Nips  the  hunter  unaware; 
Where  the  air  is  kind  o*  pure. 
And  the  snow  crop 's  pretty  sure"  ? 


[  185  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


July  22 
It  has  been  days  since  I  wrote  you,  and  they 
have  slipped  by  so  stealthily  I  must  have  missed 
half  they  held. 

Since  coming  aboard  I  have  taken  to  rising 
promptly.  It  is  a  necessary  measure  if  I  am  to  be 
able  to  rise  at  all.  One  morning  I  stuck  my  head 
out  just  in  time  to  see  my  favourite  sweater, 
which  I  had  counted  on  for  service  on  the  home- 
ward voyage,  disappearing  over  the  rail  —  legit- 
imately, so  far  as  concerned  the  wearer.  Last 
week,  by  the  merest  fluke,  I  rescued  my  best 
boots  from  a  similar  fate.  The  doctor  explained 
lamely  on  each  occasion  that  they  got  mixed 
with  the  clothing  sent  for  distribution  to  the 
poor.  This  may  be  a  literal  statement  of  fact, 
but  I  doubt  the  manner  of  the  mixing. 

We  celebrated  to-day  by  running  aground  on 
the  flats.  You  can  "squeak"  over  them  if  you 
happen  to  strike  the  channel.  The  difficulty  is, 
[  18G  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

however,  that  the  sandy  bottom  shifts.  To-day 
it  is,  and  to-morrow  it  is  not.  I  was  eating  one  of 
those  large,  hearty  breakfasts  which  the  com- 
bination of  a  dead  flat  calm  and  a  sunshiny  brisk 
air  make  such  a  desideratum.  I  was,  moreover, 
perched  on  the  top  of  the  wheel  house,  and  re- 
flecting on  the  poor  taste  of  the  author  of  the 
Book  of  Revelation  when  he  said  that  in  heaven 
"there  shall  be  no  more  sea."  At  this  moment 
I  came  to  with  a  lurch.  *' She's  stuck!"  yelled, 
or  as  he  himself  would  put  it,  "bawled,"  the 
Prophet.  For  once  he  was  undeniably  right. 
Fortunately  the  tide  was  on  the  flood,  and  we 
floated  off  a  short  while  after. 

Li  the  afternoon  we  visited  an  Eskimo  Mora- 
vian station.  They  —  the  Eskimos,  not  the  Mo- 
ravians —  are  a  jolly  little  people,  and  pictur- 
esque as  possible.  Not  that  any  aspersions  on 
the  Moravians  are  intended,  for  I  have  the 
greatest  respect  for  them.  My  shining  leather 
coat  made  a  great  hit.  They  fondled  it  and 
[  187  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


stroked  it,  and  coo-ed  at  it  as  if  it  were  a  new 
baby.  All  the  women  past  their  very  first  youth 
seemed  toothless.  I  wondered  if  it  could  be  a 
characteristic  of  the  tribe  —  sort  of  Manx  Es- 
kimo. I  asked  the  Prophet  what  was  the  cause 
of  the  universal  shortage,  and  was  told  that  the 
Eskimo  women  all  chew  the  sealskin  to  soften  it 
for  making  into  boots.  You  can  take  this  state- 
ment for  what  it  may  be  worth. 

Speaking  of  which  I  have  just  finished  reading 
a  ludicrously  furious  attack  on  the  Mission  in  a 
St.  John's  paper,  for  its  alleged  misrepresenta- 
tions. It  seems  that  last  year  the  former  superin- 
tendent took  down  a  boy  from  the  Children's 
Home  to  give  him  a  chance  at  further  education. 
He  had  a  wooden  leg,  his  own  having  been  re- 
moved by  an  operation  for  tuberculosis.  On  his 
arrival  in  Montreal  the  omnivorous  reporter  saw 
in  him  excellent  copy,  and  forthwith  printed  the 
following  purely  fictitious  account  of  the  cause 
of  his  disability.  Little  Kommak,  so  the  story 
[  188  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


ran  (the  boy  is  of  pure  Irish  extraction,  and  is 
named  Michael  Flynn),  was  one  day  sitting  with 
his  mother  in  his  igloo  when  he  saw  a  large  polar 
bear  approaching.  Having  no  weapon,  and  not 
desiring  the  presence  of  the  bear  in  any  capac- 
ity at  their  midday  meal,  he  stuck  his  leg  out 
through  the  small  aperture  of  the  igloo.  The  bear 


bit  it  off  on  the  principle  of  half  a  loaf  being  bet- 
ter than  no  bread.  The  whole  thing  was  a  fabric 
of  lies  from  beginning  to  end.  The  St.  John's 
papers  discovered  the  article,  pounced  upon  it, 
and  printed  the  article  ^'queje  viens  definir,*\Oi 
[  189  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


course,  if  the  local  editor  lacked  humour  enough 
to  credit  the  doctor  with  such  a  fairy  tale,  one 
could  pity  the  poor  soul,  but  his  diatribe  has 
rather  the  earmarks  of  jealousy. 

A  lovely  sunset  is  lighting  up  the  sea  and  sky 
and  hills,  and  turning  the  plain  little  settlement, 
in  the  harbour  of  which  we  are  anchored,  into 
the  Never,  Never  Land.  The  scene  is  so  be- 
witching that  I  find  my  soul  purged  by  it  of  the 
bad  taste  of  the  attack.  I'll  leave  you  to  digest 
the  mixed  metaphor  undisturbed  while  I  go  be- 
low and  help  with  the  patients  who  have  begun 
pouring  aboard. 

Same  evening 
An  old  chap  has  just  climbed  over  the  rail,  who 
looks  like  an  early  patriarch,  but  his  dignity  is 
impaired  by  the  moth-eaten  high  silk  hat  which 
surmounts  his  white  hair.  The  people  regard 
him  with  apparent  deference,  due  either  to  the 
hat  or  his  inherent  character.  Looking  at  his 
[  190  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

fine  old  face,  one  is  inclined  to  believe  it  is  the 
latter. 

The  expressions  these  people  use  are  so  nauti- 
cal and  so  apt !  Every  patient  who  comes  aboard 
expressed  the  wish  to  be  "sounded"  in  some 
portion  of  his  or  her  anatomy  for  the  suspected 
ailment  which  has  brought  him.  One  burly  fish- 
erman solemnly  took  off  his  huge  oily  sea-boot, 
placed  a  grimy  forefinger  on  his  heel,  and  re- 
marked sententiously  that  the  doctor  "must 
sound  him  right  there."  The  prescription  was 
soap  and  water  —  a  diagnosis  in  which  I  en- 
tirely concurred.  The  next  case  was  a  young  girl 
with  a  "kink  in  her  glutch."  It  has  the  sound  of 
all  too  familiar  motor  trouble,  but  was  dismissed 
as  psychopathic.  I  wish  that  a  similarly  simple 
diagnosis  accounted  for  the  mysterious  ailments 
of  automobiles.  My  meditations  on  modern  sci- 
ence were  interrupted  by  an  insistent  voice  pro- 
claiming that  "my  head  is  like  to  burst  abroad." 

If  I  were  a  woman  on  this  coast  my  temper 
[  191  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


would  "burst  abroad"  to  see  the  men  —  some 
of  them  —  spitting  all  over  the  floors  of  the  cot- 
tages: disgusting  and  particularly  dangerous  in 
a  country  where  the  arch-enemy,  tuberculosis,  is 
ever  on  the  watch  for  victims.  But  the  new  era  is 
slowly  dawning.  Now,  instead  of  hooking  "Wel- 
come Home"  into  the  fireside  mat,  you  find 
"DoNT  Spit"  worked  in  letters  of  flame.  It  is 
the  harbinger  of  the  feminist  movement  in  the 
land. 

Speaking  of  the  f  eiuinist  movement  makes  me 
think  of  a  woman  at  Aquaforte  Harbour.  She 
deserves  a  book  written  about  her.  In  the  first 
place,  Elmira  had  the  courage  of  her  convic- 
tions, and  did  not  marry.  Her  convictions  were 
that  marriage  was  desirable  if  you  get  the  right 
man  who  can  support  you  properly,  and  not 
otherwise.  This  is  generations  in  advance  of  the 
local  attitude  to  the  holy  estate.  She  has  lived  a 
life  of  single  blessedness  to  the  coast.  lii  every 
trouble  along  her  section  of  the  shore  it  is  "rou- 
[  192  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR' 

tine"  to  send  for  "Aunt"  'Mira.  She  has  more 
sense  and  unselfishness  and  native  wit  than  you 
would  meet  in  ten  products  of  civilization.  For  a 
year  she  acted  as  nurse  to  the  little  boy  of  one  of 
the  staff,  and  never  was  child  better  cared  for. 
They  once  told  'Mira  she  really  must  make  baby 
take  his  bottle.  (He  had  the  habit  of  profoimd 
slumber  at  that  time.)  "Oh!  I  does,  ma'm," 
'Mira  replied.  "If  he  d walls  off,  I  gives  him  a 
scattered  jolt."  The  family  took  her  to  England 
with  them,  and  her  remarks  on  the  trains  showed 
where  her  ancestry  lay.  When  they  backed 
she  exclaimed,  *'My  happy  day!  We're  goin' 
astern!"  She  requested  to  be  allowed  to  "open 
the  port";  and  at  a  certain  junction  where  there 
was  a  long  delay  she  asked  to  go  "ashore  for  a 
spell." 

'That  "hell  is  paved  with  good  intentions'* 
is  no  longer  a  glib  phrase  to  me;  it  is  a  convic- 
tion born  of  seeing  some  of  the  suffering  of  this 
CQUutry,  The  doctor  has  just  been  ashore  to  see 
I  193  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


a  woman  with  a  five-days  old  baby.  No  attempt 
whatever  had  been  made  to  get  her  or  her  bed 
clean  or  comfortable.  She  had  developed  a  vio- 
lent fever,  and  the  local  midwives,  with  their 
congenital  terror  of  the  use  of  water  —  internal 
or  external  —  had  larded  the  miserable  creature 
over  from  head  to  foot  with  butter,  and  finished 
©ff  with  a  liberal  coating  of  oakum.  The  doctor 
said,  by  the  time  he  had  himself  scraped  and 
bathed  her,  put  her  in  a  fresh  cool  bed  with  a 
jug  of  spring  water  beside  her  to  drink,  she 
looked  as  if  she  thought  the  gates  of  Paradise 
had  opened. 

Mails  reached  us  at  the  Moravian  station, 
and  your  most  welcome  letters  loomed  large  on 
the  postal  horizon.  You  ask  if  I  have  not  found 
the  year  long.  I  will  answer  by  telling  you  the 
accepted  derivation  of  the  name  "Labrador." 
It  comes  from  the  Portuguese,  and  means  "the 
labourer,"  because  those  early  voyagers  in- 
tended to  send  slaves  back  to  His  Majesty. 
[  104  1 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

Well-filled  time,  so  the  psychologists  tell  us,  is 
short  in  passing,  and  "down  North,"  before 
you  are  half  into  the  day's  tasks,  you  look  up  to 
find  that  "the  embers  of  the  day  are  red."  You 
must  have  guessed,  too,  that  I  should  not  have 
evinced  such  contentment  during  these  months 
if  my  fellow  workers  had  not  been  congenial.  I 
shall  always  remember  their  devotion,  and  readi- 
ness to  serve  both  one  another  and  the  people; 
and  I  know  that  the  years  to  come  will  only 
deepen  my  appreciation  of  what  their  friendship 
has  meant  to  me. 

How  glad  I  was  when  the  winter  came,  and  I 
was  no  longer  classed  as  a  newcomer!  I  had 
heard  so  much  about  dog  driving  that  I  remem- 
ber thinking  the  resultant  sensations  must  be 
akin  to  those  Elijah  experienced  in  his  chariot. 
But  now  I  have  driven  with  dogs  in  summer, 
and  that  is  more  than  most  of  the  older  stagers 
can  boast.  In  a  prosperous  little  village  in  the 
Straits  lives  the  rural  dean.  He  is  a  devoted  and 
f  195  1 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


practical  example  of  what  a  shepherd  and  bishop 
of  souls  can  be.  There  is  not  a  good  work  for 
the  benefit  of  his  flock  —  and  he  is  not  bound 
by  the  conventional  and  unchristian  denomina- 
tional prejudices  —  which  does  not  find  in  him  a 
leader.  His  interests  range  from  cooperation  to  a 
skin-boot  industry.  But  the  problem  of  getting 
about  when  you  have  no  Aladdin's  carpet  is 
acute.  He  goes  by  dog  sled  and  shanks'  pony  in 
winter,  and  used  to  go  by  boat  and  shanks'  pony 
in  summer.  Then  one  day  he  had  the  inspiration 
of  building  a  two-wheeled  shay,  and  harnessing 
in  his  lusty  and  idle  dog  team.  Now  he  drives 
about  at  a  rate  that  "Jehu  the  son  of  Nimshi 
would  approve,"  and  is  independent  of  winds 
and  weather. 

Sunday  to-morrow.  We  are  running  south  for 
the  Ragged  Islands.  If  I  were  not  on  the  hospi- 
tal ship,  and  therefore  an  involuntary  example 
to  the  people,  I  would  fall  into  my  bunk  at 
night  with  my  clothes  on,  I  am  so  weary. 
I  190  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 


Ragged  Islands 

Sunday  night 

Just  aboard  again  after  Prayers  at  the  little 
church.  It  is  a  quaint  and  crude  little  edifice, 
and  the  people  were  so  kindly  and  the  service 
so  hearty  that  one  feels  "wonderfu*  Hfted  up." 
To  be  sure,  during  the  sermon  I  was  suddenly 
brought  up  **all  standing"  by  the  amazing 
statement  that  the  "Harch  Hangels  go  Hup, 
Hup,  Hup."  One  felt  in  one's  bones  that  this 
was  a  misapprehension.  The  very  earnest  clergy- 
man may  have  noticed  my  obvious  disagree- 
ment, for  at  the  close  he  announced,  "We  will 
now  sing  the  398th  hymn  "  — 

"Day  of  Wrath,  oh!  Day  of  Mourning, 
See  fulfilled  the  Prophet's  warning. 
Heaven  and  earth  in  ashes  burning." 

This  goes  off  into  the  blue  on  the  chance  of  its 
reaching  you  before  I  come  myself  and  share  a 
secret  with  you;  for  to-morrow  we  are  due  at 
[  197  ] 


LE  PETIT  NORD 


the  Iron  Bound  Islands,  and  there  I  leave  the 
Northern  Light,  and  end  the  chapter  of  my  life 
as  a  member  of  the  Mission  staff.  The  appropri- 
ateness of  the  closing  hymn  in  the  little  church 
last  night  is  borne  more  than  ever  forcibly  in 
upon  me  with  the  chill  light  of  early  morning, 
for  I  verily  feel  as  though  my  world  were  tot- 
tering about  my  ears. 

I  am  still  optimist  enough  to  know  that  life 
will  hold  many  experiences  which  will  enrich  it, 
but  in  my  secret  heart  I  cherish  the  conviction 
that  this  year  will  always  stand  out  as  a  key- 
note, and  a  touchstone  by  which  to  judge  those 
which  succeed  it.  My  greatest  solace  in  the  ache 
which  I  feel  in  taking  so  long  a  farewell  of  a  peo- 
ple and  country  that  I  love  is  that  I  shall  always 
possess  them  in  memory  —  a  treasure  which  no 
one  can  take  from  me.  As  I  look  back  over  the 
quickly  speeding  year  I  find  that  I  have  forgot- 
ten those  trivial  incidents  of  discomfort  which 
pricked  my  hurrying  feet.  All  I  can  recall  is  the 
[  198  ] 


ANNALS  OF  A  LABRADOR  HARBOUR 

rugged  beauty  of  the  land,  the  brave  and  sim- 
ple people  with  their  hardy  manhood  and  more 
than  generous  hospitality,  and  most  of  all  my 
little  bairns  who  hold  in  their  tiny  hands  the 
future  of  Le  Petit  Nord. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .   S    .   A 


t 


^..y^ 


AA    000  848  219    2 


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